


All I want

by Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily, TheLastTactician (orphan_account)



Series: Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily and TheLastTactician [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Baking, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cooking, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, Holidays, Hot Tub, Huddling For Warmth, Hunters, Ice Skating, M/M, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Snow, Snowball Fight, Snowman, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream, explicit for later chapters, figure skating, gore slightly, ski resort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily/pseuds/Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheLastTactician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Really? A ski resort? That sounds like a bad idea with werewolves who apparently don't understand no wolfie powers and a banshee ,who knows how many times she will blow our ear drums, there could be a billion dead bodies under that snow!” Stiles whine, throwing his hands down as his side to enthusize his point.  Lydia flipped her finger at him, not very feminine Lydia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The journey.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheered on by the lovely @thelasttactician

“Really? A ski resort? That sounds like a bad idea with werewolves who apparently don't understand no wolfie powers and a banshee ,who knows how many times she will blow our ear drums, there could be a billion dead bodies under that snow!” Stiles whine, throwing his hands down as his side to enthusize his point. Lydia flipped her finger at him, not very feminine Lydia.

 

“What's wrong ,Stiles, I though you were an abominable snowman?” Peter snickered from his seat on the circular metal staircase , getting in Isaac's way of packing, it wasn’t Isaac's fault the bags kept hitting Peter in the head...he should move. Instead of growling each time.

 

“Wha-...how do you know about that you weren’t even there?” Stiles' jaw was agape, whilst Peter smirked at him and tapped on his nose. “Pleassse, why does he have to come? I mean if I’m being forced to go, do I have to have the torture of him going to?”

 

“No one wants him there, but someone needs to baby sit him, and I asked your dad and Scott's mom, yet Melissa said she'd cut his balls off and your dad said he would maybe lose his body somewhere.” Derek replied as he shoved stuff untidily into a suitcase.

 

“So there are so ground rules we need to go over because it's Jackson's parents cabin we are staying at.” Lydia announced as she filed her nails, who knew why the cold would ruin them. “Firstly, I am sharing a room with Jackson and Danny,Ethan and Aiden ,but everyone will be sharing so sorry for whoever pulls the short straw” She shot a glare at Peter, who rolled his eyes. How was the man able to deal with all this hate? It sort of made Stiles feel bad. “ So , Derek and Isaac with Scott and Allison.”

 

“No not happening I am not sharing a room with those love birds.” Derek snarled.

 

“You'll go where I put you. Unless you want to bunk with Peter?” He was surprisingly compliant before he started to take the bags down stairs to the minivan they had rented.

 

“Cora,Boyd and Erica, that leaves Peter and Stiles. Sorry ,Stiles, maybe you should have a girlfriend.” If that was a taunt at his comment about her earlier that's harsh, it was harsh either way.

 

“Wait so I’m sharing with Peter because I don’t have a girlfriend , room-mate,” He looked towards Isaac and Derek , he knew they wanted to bone then again Isaac seemed to want to bone everyone. “ Or in a Ménage à trois relationship?” His eyes darted to Lydia ,Aiden and Cora ,Erica and Boyd. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“Shut up , Stiles. Now , we are meeting Jackson halfway when we stop for gas, he told me no parties unless you plan on cleaning up every singles speck of mess and paying $10,000 for the new vase. No, Stiles you may not talk. If you have sex clean up after yourself ,sorry Stiles at least your not our maid for once or your own maid, and no bringing anyone back to the place, we are good enough company.” Stiles looked about ready to explode and rip Lydia's head off, it wasn’t his fault that other than Isaac he was the only virgin. God , he hoped Isaac was a virgin. It's normal to be a virgin at seventeen. His shoulders were puffing up and down like his chest until Peter placed his hands on them gripping tightly.

 

"Shush, don't kill her until we have a place to hide the body...the snow." Peter whispered in his ear ,his breath ghosting over it. He knew the rest of the wolves could hear and that was why the room filled with snarls. He wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "Some of you need to get a new humour." Peter chuckled before he picked up his bag and left for down stairs leaving the boy feeling a little molested.

 

The journey there was going to be more torture than the two weeks of being trapped in a room with Peter. 

 

 

Stiles' way of getting through that hell was to listen to his ipod on the loudest he could get it. Scott and Allison were being all lovey-dovey behind Stiles and he wanted to throw up because of it, Derek was driving so he could tune everyone else out and the only person he would let in the passenger seat was Isaac who was navigating with the map even though Lydia gave them a high tec sat-nav. There was three rows, and in the second row there was meant to be three people but Erica and Boyd wanted to sit next to each other so they squeezed in to the 3rd row with Scott and Allison, it would have been easier if Stiles or Peter sat with Scott and Allison but neither of them wanted to so instead all the couples were sat on the same row ,squished. Lydia had Aiden,Ethan and Danny in her car plus Cora because she didn’t want to be with Peter nor did Lydia want to be the only girl. 

 

“Why am I always sandwiched between couples,Derek and Isaac whether they admit or not and then those lot?” Stiles sighed loudly as he whispered to himself. Peter was sat in the second seat along leaving a gap between them, the man had his eyes closed and Stiles watching his chest rise and fall smoothly...was he asleep? They had been in the car for nearly two hours and the man hadn’t said a word the whole time so he was either sleeping or dead. Stiles leant closer , his headphones still in. He twisted his head ,inspecting before he felt a claw under his chin. 

 

“If you do that whilst we share a room, I will skin you.” Peter huffed ,his eyes still closed. Stiles gulped and Peter could feel the whole movement through his hand. “Was there something you wanted ,little one?” 

 

“I thought you were dead.” 

 

“You would know if I was dead, Derek would have stopped the car already and thrown my body into on coming traffic.” Peter smiled smugly, trailing the claw down Stiles' neck slowly before he brought his hands back to himself and began staring out the window. It really was quite heart breaking that his only family left hated him and his only determination for getting out of the coma was for revenge for his family, that now don’t love him. 

 

Peter could smell the pity coming off of him, so he grabbed one of the boy headphones and shoved it in his own ear,undoing his seatbelt and moving so his shoulder was against Stiles' before doing the seatbelt up. Stiles seemed to shocked to say a word, and no one else in the car noticed...what a common occurrence...Stiles being ignored whilst the bad thing got closer to him. 

 

“Better music taste than I expected.” Peter weakly smiled, something was off with him. 

 

 _If you see it, why couldn't you do it?_  
Now you're so alone tonight  
It's heartbreaking the road you choose  
And God wouldn't save you  
Love is a battle  
Oh and everybody cries  
  
Yeah but it all comes down to, what it all comes down to  
It all comes down to, yeah it all comes down to  
It all comes down to, it all comes down to you

 

What confused the boy the most was that when the car stopped to get gas and meet up with Jackson, Stiles had found he had feel asleep...on Peter's shoulder. And the man never shoved him off, oh no, he leant against him whilst stealing his ipod to change the songs. Stiles practically spasmed when he awoke and figured out what happened, ended up hitting Peter hard in the nose. 

 

“OH my god, I’m so so sorry...would you believe me if I said that's how I wake up?” Stiles scrunched up his face and hoped. 

 

“Yes I would.” Peter grumbled as he shimming out of the car to stretch his legs.

 

Lydia was reluctant to let anyone else drive her car but in the end she picked Jackson over her car. Aiden also went into that car, letting Boyd and Erica share the back seat with Cora whilst Ethan sat in the passenger seat and Danny drove Lydia's car. Peter didn’t take the seat next to Stiles where he was before, he sat by the door again, maybe he didn’t want to get punched in the face again?  


 

“Derek ,can we listen to music please?” Scott begging, leaning forward on Stiles' seat. 

 

“Nope, Driver picks the music,which is none, and you shut the hell up. If you want to listen to music do what Peter's doing and steal Stiles' Ipod” Derek grumbled,Stiles looked really lost as he searched for his ipod and glared at Peter who was giving him a toothy grin as he played the music in just one ear. The boy shrugged before he grabbed homework out of his bag and began attempting to do it in a driving car, harder than you think. And much harder when you are trying to ignore the lovey giggles behind you. 

 

“Oh, my god! Derek put music on please. Or make Uncle Touchy give me back my ipod.” Derek just grunted in return and put the radio on. 

 

That made the trip slightly more cope-able and he had fell asleep again. It's wasn’t long until they got to the airport to take a plane nearest to British Columbia . A 4 hour plane ride...that Stiles spent mostly sleeping on Peter, he hoped this wouldn’t be a common occurrence but the man was hell of a comfy. And warm.

 

 


	2. The Arrival aka the first day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much sexual tension can you fit into one chapter? Apparently a lot.

Stiles slid into the cabin on the wooden floors,pushing everyone out of the way, scrambling to find a room first, if he was stuck with Peter he was having the best room, fuck all of them. He ended up finding the only room with a en suite, he then tripped back, grabbing Peter by his coat tails and dragging him to the room with the bags where he then slammed the door and barricaded it. Determined that this was there room , he began putting things away, whilst Lydia tried to get Jackson to break down the door. Peter just leant against a draws blinking confused about the whole happenstance. Mostly he was confused at how the boy was able to drag him to a room. 

 

“Are you not going to unpack? Are is it all just body parts in that bag?” Stiles asked as he shoved things surprisingly tidily into a draw. 

 

“Pftt that would be unsanitary ,there could be a shampoo explosion , they are in my mini fridge.” Peter chuckled when Stiles froze actually thinking of the body parts in the fridge. 

 

“I hate you Stiles!”Lydia screamed through the door,before he listened to her high heels stamping down the hallway.  
  


It was two hours later that everyone got together again , Stiles didn’t want to know what everyone else did, but he took a shower and collapsed on the bed, Peter on the other hand disappeared for two hours. Which was nice to have time to himself. 

 

Stiles walked into the kitchen/open plan living room to find Peter cooking, in some really tight clothes like damn dude! That ass!

 

“Trying to poison us? I didn’t know you could cook.”   
  
“It's not that much of a push of the imagination.” Peter mumbled as he stirred the sauce to something before he thrust a spoonful of sauce in front of the boy. “Try it... please?” Please seemed to taste like acid to the wolf. Stiles ignored how to man watched his lips as he sipped on the sauce. 

 

“Needs more salt, and maybe a bit of spice,” Stiles announced before he began to rummage through the herb rack , placing a few bottles to the side. “This might be good, but not too much.” Peter was looking at him like he had grown a second or third head before the man invaded his space ,backing Stiles up against the counter, his face slowly moving closer and then a pink tongue darted out and licked near Stiles bottom lip. He pulled back with a manic grin on his face at the boy's sudden redness and arousal. 

 

“You missed a bit.” 

 

 

“Are we interrupting something?” Erica giggled as she leant against Boyd. Stiles scrambled away from Peter slipping on the polished wooden floor and on to his ass with a grunt. He then got up and ran to his saviour ,Scott, begging him to go outside with him. He lost, Scott said it was too cold. How does a werewolf get too cold? 

 

 

“Stiles, why do you have condoms it's not like you aren’t going to get laid.” Lydia giggled as she dangling the superhero wrapper condoms in front of Stiles' face. He flailed as he tried to grabbed them.

 

“Holy crap, Lydia why are you going through my stuff, and you don’t know that.” Stiles squeaked, slipping on the wooden floor as he chased around the kitchen after her. “Why are you being such a Mean Girl?”  
  


“Found some other strange things but I guess that's between us. Pftt as if. This is for stealing the best room.Well by who? Some random girl who comes Skiing to the middle of nowhere for sex?Peter?”

 

“Maybe.” Peter smirking when everyone froze,Stiles turned bright red before he grabbed the condoms back and escaped to his room. Later after giving him time to cool off, everyone else was eating, Lydia got scolded by Derek and then an argument broke out about everything so it was silent and Peter went to see if he had upset Stiles, he found him outside somehow jumping from low balcony, scrapeing the snow and sweeping it into a pile.

 

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” Peter noticed the boy's nose was red and so were his cheeks, he wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes.

 

“I'm digging a hole to bury my body in after that embarrassment, I’ve already deleted my browser history.” Stiles sniffed as his nose was running from the cold. Peter sighed ,jumping down from the balcony with a pair of the boy's shoes in his hand. He allowed the boy to lean on his as he helped him into his shoes, rubbing his feet warm and dry with his werewolf heat before he placed them inside the sneakers. He then placed his leather jacket over Stiles' shoulders,holy Jesus was it like a radiator! And then the man began to sculpt the snow...but into what. Stiles twisted his head ,watching. A snow man. The psycho zombie wolf was building a snow man, how was this happening? Did hell freeze over?Was he in hell right now? 

 

“Why are you building a snowman?” Stiles squeaked, he was ignoring the fact that he was leaning into Peter, it was for the warmth really. 

 

“So you can break it, might help with your anger.” Peter raised an eyebrow at the boy when he heard his stomach rumble, he noticed the boy's face drop. When with werewolves you have to get your food fast because they eat like the animals that they are, especially Scott and Jackson who seem to want to win some type of competition. “I saved you a bowl.” Peter announced whilst he added the finishing touches, carving into the face. It looked like Peter. “Go ahead, it'll get rid of your sour mood.” 

 

“Look, Peter, you are an ass but this mood right now isn’t because of you. It's because of the Regina George in there with her mission on personally victimizing everyone but Allison. And don’t bring up how she is the love of my life, because she isn’t, I figured that out when she kissed me for the first time ever,to get me out of the panic attack. I didn’t want her , I just liked the idea of her. So, change it so its a faceless snowman or make it look like Rupert Murdoch because no one cancels Firefly and doesn’t get punished.” The boy laughed and smiled at Peter who instantly scratched off the face with his claws, don’t read too much into Stiles you aren’t a psychology major, mostly because he had no idea who Rupert Murdoch was nor what Firefly was.   


“Also, there's only one tool that can change my 'tude, but I'm gonna need two AA batteries and 20-minutes to myself.” As soon as it came out of his mouth , his hands were covering it and his eyes were as wide as saucers. Peter chuckled at him, but this time it was different it wasn’t a sarcastic chuckle or partnered with a snide comment, he was actually amused. 

 

Where was that hole Stiles had dug for himself? He was just going to disappear into it now. 

 

He slowly began backing away from Peter, he may have been thinking about the hole, but he didn’t remember where he had dug it as he tripped over it and would have fell very awkwardly probably breaking something if Peter didn’t catch him. 

 

“Why did they bring you? You haven’t even been here a day and you've nearly broken something, nearly gotten frostbite and embarrassed yourself to the Nth degree.” 

 

“I said I didn’t want to come!” Peter was chuckling about Stiles' masturbation comment earlier. “Oh, fuck you.” Peter raised his eyebrows asking 'do you want to?” “Oh my god, leave me alone.” Stiles whined still in Peter's arms. 

 

 

Meanwhile , they didn’t know they had a crowd. 

 

“How long do you reckon?” Eric asked Lydia. 

 

“Tonight.” Lydia snickered before she went back to snooping around the room she wanted, this time Peter's things, things she wanted to burn.

 

“I don't think so, I think 3 days.” Allison chimed in, feeling conflicted about Lydia's snooping. 

 

“I'm pretty sure they have already done it.” Erica giggled. And then a head popped round the door. 

 

“They totally haven’t, I don’t have to be a werewolf to spell that unresolved sexual tension. I think at least a week and a half. We are here for 2 weeks guys.” Danny rolled his eyes at their ignorance none of them really knew Stiles, lets think why, Lydia ignored him for ten years, Allison is mostly just friends my association and Erica had a crush on him but as soon as she went wolf, she knocked him out with his own car part. Danny was on a team with him, he knew a little bit more about him. 


	3. Skiing part 1 aka the drunk incident

 

“Why are we taking cable cars? Isn't there a ski lift?” Stiles questioned as he struggled to move in the extra layers, yes he wore a lot of layers normally but not this many, and he ,Lydia ,Allison and Danny were all wearing more than the werewolves who had self heating.

 

“Yes there is ,Stiles ,but you will freeze to death so no.” Derek huffed as he shoved Stiles into one of the cable cars. The cable cars seated 6 people.

 

Lydia,Aiden,Jackson,Danny and Ethan were in one. Boyd,Erica,Cora and Derek were in another. And Scott,Stiles,Allison,Peter and Isaac in the last one. 

 

“Scott please stop moving. The car moves with you.” Stiles begged,Allison chuckled at him.

 

“Yes, _please_ ,Scott . Stop moving.” Peter grunted through his teeth, Stiles finger nails digging into his arm. It didn’t hurt much but it was annoying. He would rather have the boy digging his nails into his back. 

 

“Why are you so frightened Stiles, you even suggested to use the ski lifts?” Isaac pondered, tilting his head like the puppy he is.

 

“Dude, this is made of like really heavy metal if this breaks, we get crushed by this as well as falling onto frozen snow that breaks bone instantly. A ski lift won't crush me.” 

 

“Do you want some Xanax ?” Peter raised his eyes at the boy questioning. Peter decided the only way to get the boy to stop clinging would be to freak him out, so he placed a hand on Stiles' inner thigh. He squeaked and moved nearer to Isaac. 

 

“Oh, god you sell drugs to minors too. You are a monster!” Stiles gasped ,overreacting. “Do you have any?” Everyone in the cable car sighed. “What?” Stiles asked confused.

 

…....

 

Stiles was clinging to Scott whilst he put on the skis. Allison and Lydia had already been up and down once, also having used the ski lift. Derek wasn’t that interested in skiing down until Isaac whispered something in his ear, they could only guess what, because they immediately raced each other down and no one saw them again till dinner time. Erica and Boyd decided that they would have a snowball fight with Cora,Ethan and Danny. Whilst Jackson messed about on his phone, too stuck up to do anything else ,well that was until Cora threw a snow ball at his face. 

 

“Stiles, it's really not that hard.”Scott whined, he wanted to be skiing not teaching Stiles how,and Stiles could tell. 

 

“I'm getting it now, go be with Allison, maybe join in the snowball fight.” Stiles smiled fakely, glaring at the chuckle behind him, which was Peter leaning against a tree. Peter rolled his eyes, walking over to Stiles guiding him into the right position before he grabbed Stiles' ski sticks from behind him and pushed off. Stiles' ass was rubbing right up against Peter's cock and that was all he could think about ,not how Peter was explaining how to ski to him. “I'm done, I’m not getting it, I’m fed up for the day. I'll try again tomorrow, I have 2 weeks to learn.” And with that the boy disappeared off back to the cabin.

 

In the end ,Peter decided to go looking for the boy, he honestly worried for him since he didn’t know how much more the kid could take before he broke. He found Stiles on the lake, skating on the ice with more grace than he expected ever. He could actually spin on one foot. 

 

Yet when he saw Peter he turned into the flailing mess again and Peter had to slid on the ice over to the boy so that he didn’t whack his jaw off the ice. 

 

“I'm confused ,do you have balance or was that just good luck?” Peter scoffed as he dragged the boy back to the snow and off the ice.

 

“There you two are, you know its unsafe to blowjobs in this weather, someone’s dick might fall off” Lydia smiled a bitchy smile. 

 

“It's okay Lyds, we can borrow one of yours. You seem to have many, either made of plastic or attached to your head.” Stiles smiled back, pissed off at her attacking him. She huffed and questioned out loud why she invited them. “I don’t know why you did Lydia, honestly wish you didn’t.” He snickered at the comment she threw back 'Ungrateful bitch' before she was dragged away by Aiden and Jackson to do some weird ice skating with three people. 

 

Everyone who was in a couple was skating happily until Ethan decided to change it to ice hockey by tackling Scott. 

 

“I wonder if this is sharp enough to cut my jugular?” Stiles mumbled as he lay making a snow angel , his skates lay next to him. He looked up to see Peter offering a claw. “Naw , how sweet” Stiles cooed before he began laughing to himself. 

 

Lydia was smiling happily as she skated around with Jackson until she looked up at Peter and was reminded her of when he was under the ice, controlling her mind. He smirked at her, he knew what she was thinking. 

 

“Make him leave.” She screamed at a high frequency, most of the wolves clutched their ears. 

 

“Holy crap Lydia!”Stiles was the only person who never looked at her like she was crazy...until now. “We shall go make dinner, its not like I’m wanted here either.” Stiles moaned flashing a look at his supposedly best friend. “I thought this was meant to be pack bonding ,not make Stiles want to hang himself because he is forever alone and make Peter be the one to kick the chair from under him because he wants to get back at everyone...I don’t think it would upset them that much.” Stiles mumbled as they walked back to the cabin. 

 

“Any more self pity?” 

 

“Fuck you.” Stiles grumbled, Peter instantly regretted it, the boy actually had tears in his eyes. “I'm taking a warm shower.” Stiles announced as soon as they got in. 

 

“Derek , Isaac we are home, if you are, please don’t let me see you naked.” Peter yelled as he grabbed ingredients out of the fridge.

 

…....

 

Honestly the boy wasn’t helping himself, when the others arrived home and ate dinner, he didn’t eat with them and then when they offered for him to come into town as there was a party they were going to , he declined. Leaving him and Peter alone. 

 

Stiles slid around the kitchen floor, singing into the whisk whilst he attempted to make milkshake,or a mess Peter couldn’t tell , a bottle of vodka was half gone and the bottle of coke empty. 

 

 

 _'I am no angel_  
I like it when you do that stuff to me  
I am no angel  
I like it when you talk, talk dirty when you talk, talk

_Dirty talk_

_Kitten heels, lingerie, pantyhose, foreplay_  
Legs up on the bar, in the back of your car  
Latex, champagne, bubble bath, whipped cream  
Cherry pop, tag team, can you make me scream?

_I wanna do some dirty things to you tonight'_

  
  


“Are you drunk?” Peter scoffed as he took a swig off the straight vodka. 

 

“Yup, they are going to be drunk, why cant I?” Stiles slurred back.

 

“You could of gone with them and got drunk.” Peter rolled his eyes at the boy, wondering if he knew what he just sang. “ Maybe you should talk to Scott?” Urgh giving advice, he so did not want to do this. 

 

“I should of took the bite. I'd be better with it,accepted more.” Stiles hiccup, deciding to collapse onto the sofa.

 

“So we are changing topic ,okay.” God, Peter hated drunk people, there was a surprising amount he encountered when he was in the hospital. “I can still give you the bite.” He smirked, wondering just how drunk Stiles was. 

 

Apparently a lot as the boy thrusted his wrist in front of Peter. What harm could it do? May even teach him a lesson. Peter embedded his teeth into Stiles' wrist, the boy hardly reacted due to being drunk you feel invincible. 

 

But that didn’t stop the screeching scream in the morning that then turned into a hiss and Stiles jumping onto his bed,smothering him with one of his pillows. 

 

“Why the fuck did you bite me?” Stiles yelled as he held the pillow on his face, yet the next thing he knew he was pinned to the bed himself and Peter's tongue was tracing the bruise. “Oh god” Stiles whispered as he felt the blood travelling downwards. 

 

“Shut up Stiles , some of us have a hangover!” Jackson bellowed from his room. 

 

“Yes, Stiles , you must be quiet.” Peter whispered into his ear before he licked from his ear down to his jugular where he bite down to draw blood, sucking hard enough that he knew it would bruise and not leave for a few days. Stiles was breathing heavily through his nose before he squirmed to get out, Peter didn’t need to be told to move, he jumped off of the boy and exited to the shower, leaving the aroused boy on his bed. Which was hard. Pun intended. But he was teaching Stiles a lesson, don’t try and suffocate a werewolf, who may or may not enjoy playing with your hormones.


	4. The snow storm aka the hot tub incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy , please tell me what you think

“Dude , I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell anyone you had a hot tub?” Stiles squawked throwing his hands in the air, he nearly hit someone in the face again, Erica. She leant against him squishing him into the wall playfully. 

 

“Because it had to be fixed, now its fixed, and you can't go in it.” Jackson demanded, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Surely,I'm the only one that can go in it? I’m not going to clog up the drain with sperm unlike the rest of you. Doing the nasty in it.” Stiles pulled a disgusted face. 

 

“Stiles, women don’t have dicks. But you wouldn’t know that would you.” Erica joked, smiling at him,not bitchly like Lydia would. Erica just thought Lydia was being a bitch because she lost the bet.

 

“You would be surprised ,Erica. Lydia's is bigged than Jackson's” Stiles snarked. 

 

“I don’t want the hot tub ,so I’m good” Scott chimed up from his seat lay next to the fire. No one was allowed out tonight due to there being a bad snow storm. Scott and Allison were melting marshmallows on the fire with Isaac and Boyd. Erica wanted the hot tub, as did Stiles. Danny was playing Nazi Zombies with the twins, kicking their asses, whilst Lydia had her feet in a travel foot spa. Peter was probably in the room but no one had checked. Stiles put it down to the fire place, considering Derek had been inspecting the fridge for the past ten minutes since the fire was lit. 

 

Jackson was blocking the door to the hot tub. 

 

“Dude , I will give you money if you let me in it.” 

 

“I have more money then you!” 

 

“Rude!”

 

Stiles sighed and threw his hands up in the air, before admitting defeat and sat down next to Scott to roast marshmallows. Isaac not long after Stiles arrived got up to get Derek's head out of the fridge he dragged him to go read a book together, weird slang for sex nowadays. 

 

Peter finally came out of his room and Lydia loudly scoffed. 

 

“Did you forget to swallow when you had lot's of cock in your mouth last night?” Peter asked with fake genuine concern. Lydia looked ready to rip his head off. 

 

“Maybe, I’ll leave you in this burning cabin when we leave the fireplace burning and everyone else is safe.” Lydia threatened, Stiles' was shocked that she went that low. Peter was growling at her, his eyes flashing fluorescent. 

 

“Maybe , I’ll haunt your pretty ass again and make you bring me back, wailing woman.” Peter snarled before he left back to the room. Stiles followed soon after him,closing the door behind him.

 

“Do you always hide behind sarcasm?” Stiles ask the man who was lay on his side facing away from him. 

  
“Do you ?” Peter snarked back. 

 

“Yes.” Peter was shocked he thought the boy would just leave it at that if he was harsh to him, apparently not. 

 

“What do you want , Stiles, a real answer? Because you're not going to get one.” Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Stiles pressed his lips together in a thin line before he climbed off his bed shifting him self next to Peter so he could hug him. “What are you doing?” 

 

“You needed a hug. Not everyone hates you, okay? You just need to be less of a dick... I have an idea. That will cheer both of us up.” Peter raised his eyebrows up waiting for the ball to drop. “No! Not that.” 

 

Stiles slowly opened the door, sticking his head out to check the coast was clear (It was) before he dragged Peter off of the bed and attempted to tip toe to the room with the hot tub. In the end, Peter picked him up so it would be quieter. 

 

Peter couldn’t help but watch the boy undress to his boxers and jump in, moaning in pleasure at the warmth. Peter joining him in just his underwear too. 

 

Stiles was staring at his ass whilst the man climbed in and he shouldn’t of, but the man's ass is out of this world. His eyes widen when the man sat opposite him and he noticed what the man looked like half naked. Godly. 

 

He was having an internal fight of to touch or not to touch. 

 

He was looking at the man's chest counting the freckles on it whilst he imagined running his hands over it, and the tiny tamed amount of chest hair. Fuck, Stiles, this man is twice your age at least. 

 

“Come here.” Peter smiled, placing out his arm for it to go around Stiles' shoulder. Stiles physically gulped unsure of the wolfs intention's before he moved to sit next to the man. “Thank you . For attempting to cheer up someone as dead inside as I am.” Peter whispered sincerely whilst he held Stiles' wrist staring at the bite. The wolf turned his head , dropping the boy's wrist before he ran the pad of his thumb over Stiles' soft plump lips. Stiles leant into the touch and moved closer to Peter , wanting to kiss him. How awesome would it be to have your first kiss in a hot tub, at a ski resort with an insanely hot (albeit slightly insane) older man? 

 

But that didn’t happen ,Peter leant in and kissed his cheek with another thank you , then left. Leaving Stiles, partially aroused but mostly confused at why he would kiss his cheek? He was more than willing to make out with the dude. 

 

Oh, god when did he go from wanting to set Peter on fire again to wanting to have his tongue shoved down his throat? What holy hell was this?

 

And then his mind went to how good Peter's ass looked when his wet underwear clung to it as he climbed out...he was not going to last another week sharing a room with the wolf.  
  
What made it worse was that Stiles later had a sex dream about Peter in that hot tub, and he became very aroused by it. 

 

He carefully padded over to the hot tub and crouched down, swinging his legs into the water. He almost groaned from how good it felt.  


Peter crawled over and placed himself between his legs before he could get in all the way. He ducked down, kissing softly over his hip bone. Stiles sucked in a breath, dragging a hand over Peter’s damp hair. He continued down lower, sucking gently at the skin, while his other hand stroked up and down the inside of Stiles’ thigh. Peter’ nose nudged his already half hard cock, causing Stiles’ head to fall back.  


Stiles slid down into the water settling himself on the seat so that now he and Peter were nose to nose. He snaked his hand down in between them and reached for Peter’ cock, thick and hard, just waiting. By now Peter was gasping at Stiles' touch, tipping his head back slightly and water was gathered in the hollow below his Adam's apple. It was so close. Stiles could just...he bent his head and licked at the spot, the water warmed by the pulse that beat against Peter's skin, against Stiles' tongue.  


Peter gasped for a second time and shifted his body again, one hand sliding into Stiles' hair, pulling at it so that the younger boy’s mouth came away from his neck, still shaped in a crooked O. Before he could close it, Peter had covered Stiles' mouth with his own and his tongue was slipping, sliding against it. There was a muffled groan. Stiles was fairly sure that it had been him, but he couldn't have sworn to it. His hand tightened, almost involuntarily, around Peter' cock. The older man squirmed , his thigh pressing against Stiles' own straining hard on

 

Stiles straddled him, kneeling on either side of his thighs. Peter tipped his head up to meet Stiles' lips, drowning in lust as Stiles' hands stroked down his chest, over the tiny hairs that narrowed in a path over his abdomen. His hand was now grazing Peter’s cock, finger tracing the vein that ran along its length.  


Peter wrapped one arm around Stiles' hips to keep him close while his other hand slid palm upwards under his parted legs reaching for Stiles’ hole. He pushed up into it, across it, one finger pressing hard against resisting flesh, slipping backwards and then up. Stiles mewled into his mouth encouraging him to push harder, aim deeper. And then he was inside Stiles and it felt unreal. Hot and tight and better every time. He crooked his finger and stroked the smooth skin, Stiles shuddering against him, grinding down, pushing Peter further into him, then pulling out, fucking himself on Peter’ finger.  


But soon enough Stiles was rising up on his knees and Peter’s hands were busy, one holding his own cock steady, one on the curve of Stiles' ass, guiding him. Peter let his boy set the pace, the slow, millimetre by millimetre entry of his cock into Stiles was the kind of torture he thought he wouldn't mind being inflicted on him over and over. And then he was in, all the way in, and they both held still, balanced on the edge of a moment. But Stiles was a born fidget and he could not hold it. He ground down, his cock stroking down Peter’s belly. Stiles pushed up again, then sank down, changing the angle, more friction, more pleasure. Nothing in real life felt this good.

 

Peter came hard into Stiles, his whole body going rigid with it. Stiles' hand slipped from Peter’ shoulder to encircle the one around his cock. Through the blackout behind his eyes, Peter could sense Stiles urging him on and he pulled himself together and followed Stiles' lead. Stiles bent his head down, planting sloppy kisses along Peter' collarbone, sucking and licking at his neck. He rocked back and forth to the rhythm they built up together and bit down hard as he jerked upwards into their entwined hands; the liquid ghosting over Peter fingers before becoming lost in the water, churned around and around by the bubbles until nothing was left.

Stiles collapsed, his head resting against Peter’ chest.

 

Then he awoke with a wet patch on his underwear and his first reaction was to look for Peter, embarrassed that it happened in the same room as someone, someone who would no longer have them. Except Peter wasn’t there, and the bedroom door was open. He didn’t go looking for the wolf, he was a grown man, and Stiles also wanted to crawl in a hole over the fact that Peter probably heard him orgasm. Little did he know he was the cause of that. 

 

“Why did they put me in a room with a horny virgin teenager?” Peter huffed as he leant over the kitchen counter , scotch in his hand as he rocked, trying to calm his wolf that wanted to jump the boy. Peter was as hard as a rock and all he could think about was how Stiles whispered his name after he came.


	5. Snow ball fight part 1 aka the shower incident

 

 

“Scott , buddy, we need to talk” Stiles rushed in Scott's room to say. Isaac was playing Cludeo with Derek which was a strange and weird to look at. Allison was on her laptop , whilst Scott lay on her back squishing her on purpose. “ Alone. I'm having a crisis.” Stiles whimpered. Scott followed Stiles swiftly to the balcony. 

 

“What's up dude?” Scott asked concerned. 

 

“My worse nightmare, worse than the apocalypse , Scott!” Stiles whined leaning way to far over the balcony. “It's embarrassed that it even leave my lips.” Scott twisted his head in confusion placing a hand on his friends shoulder for comfort. “I had a certain type of dream about a certain older wolf.” 

 

“A murder dream?” Scott asked his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, which older wolf was he on about? Derek, Duecalion or Peter? They were all older and werewolves. 

 

“No! That’s the point. I could live with a murder dream , it was the opposite of a murder dream, although they do both involve bodily fluids and a screaming of sorts.” Scott looked even more lost than before. “Oh my god, how do you not know what I am on about? Not only are you a teenage boy, you are a werewolf who has an heightened sex drive , how do you not get what I am saying?” Stiles sighed exasperated. 

 

“You had a sex dream about Peter?!” Scott bellowed in shock. 

 

“Oh my god , just announce it to the whole house why don’t you?” Stiles cried. Scott looked apologetic but that didn’t excuse what he just did.

 

“We all heard anyway and got in before Scott did.” Derek shouted in a monotone voice from indoors, with more disgust than actual care. Stiles physically defalted. 

 

“How bout we have a snow ball fight to make everyone forget? And you can aim at Peter for him causing you emotional and psychical confusion.” Allison inputted as she opened the doors, already ready to go out into the snow. Which there was now more of because of the snow storm. Stiles' shrugged seeing no harm in it. 

 

So the pack all decided to go out and play. Peter came too but he didn’t partake in the game, he sat on a snow covered bench watching the snow fall, his back away from everyone.

 

It was Scott,Isaac, Stiles ,Allison, Aiden and Derek against Lydia,Ethan,Erica,Danny ,Boyd ,Cora and Jackson. The first team was winning. 

 

"Your nose is red," Scott chuckled. His laugh raised the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck.  
His lips parted, ready to reply when Scott smacked a fistful of snow into his face. He blinked in shock, before fixing on Scott’s impish grin and crinkled eyes with a glare. “Scott McCall, I am on your team” He fumed. Scott’s eyes widened in thrilled fear as he stumbled to his feet for a hasty retreat. Stiles scraped some snow into his hand. Another snow ball hits his left shoulder, exploding on impact. Clumps of snow stuck to his coat. “Get back here!” He growled, stomping after Scott in his heavy boots, using his arm to shield himself as Scott used his wolfitude to make snowballs flinging some more snowballs his way.

  
He quickly adjusts, making to nick Scott in the stomach and his retreating back. His third throw narrowly misses his head. (He was planning to miss). Scott stops underneath a tree, holding up two fists in triumph: a challenge. With snowballs prepared, he enters Scott’s domain. He realises his mistake too late. Scott gives an evil smirk as he raises his hand to shake the branches above him, laughing at the fear in his opponent’s eyes as the pile of snow toppled onto his hapless victim.  
Snow was everywhere. Stiles blinked it out of his eyelashes. It stuck to his hair, his clothes and worst of all it crept down the back of his neck. He screeched it melted against his spine. Scott snorted, soon reduced to a wheezing mess, bending over double in laughter so fierce tears trickled down his cheeks. 

 

“Fuck you!” Stiles giggled as he did a weird dance to get the snow out of his shirt. 

 

The snowball fight began again but Stiles went to go bug Peter.

 

“What you doing over here Mr Grouchy?” Stiles chuckled as he took a seat next to the man who seemed to be in a daze. He waved his red freezing hands in front of his face and the next thing he knew Peter grasped Stiles' hand between his own, rubbing them and breathing onto them to make them warm again. Stiles thank the gods that he was already red otherwise everyone would know he was blushing. It seemed like Peter still wasn’t paying attention since he hadn’t even looked the boy in the eyes yet and his own eyes were shining blue. “Peter?” Stiles asked with concern evident. “Derek, what's up with Peter?” Derek wondering over taking his own time and dodging the random snowball. 

 

“This happens, since the fire, I think he has flashbacks. I’ve never asked.” Derek shrugged acting like it was normal. It wasn’t normal , Stiles couldn’t even get his own hands back, still in Peter's grip (And yes very warm.), Stiles was very offended that Derek hadn’t even took two seconds out of his (albeit stressful) life to ask his Uncle why he fades off. 

 

“How do you get him out of it?” Stiles asked trying to hide his annoyance at Derek. He knew the wolf could smell it though. 

 

“I .Don’t .Know.” Derek answered before he walked away back to the Snow War of 2012. (A/N:Fuck knows the date apparently Jeff doesn’t even know the date.) 

 

“I normally bake him pancakes and that gets him out of it.” Cora inputted with a giggle from the tree was was hiding behind. “Maybe that's from the burning though. Light a cigarette that will work, in his pocket.”

 

Wait he smokes? Stiles didn’t think the man would go near a lighter. Shame , he couldn’t reach his hands. 

 

“Can someone do that for me?” 

 

Cora rushed over doing gymnastics to dodge the snow balls. She reach a hand in her Uncle's jacket and pulled a cigarette out of the box before lighting it, placing it between her Uncle's lips. He blinked and his eyes went back to their original blue. His eyes flicked to Stiles' face to see much concern written on it. Cora smiled her adorable smile before she skipped back over to the snowball fight.

 

The winner of the battle was Scott's team but the MVP was Cora with her flexibility being put to good use, Danny also was pretty flexible , he had re-enacted the matrix move. 

 

Back in the cabin, Cora,Erica and Allison decided to make cookies and brownies for everyone to warm up on after getting out of their soaked clothing.   
  
Scott was once again playing video games with the twins ,Danny and Jackson and for once Boyd was playing. Derek had collapsed onto his bed and died, Isaac cuddling up next to him. It was as adorable as it sounds. Lydia had escaped to the Hot tub to relax and treat herself, her words. Stiles was pretty certain this whole trip was a treat. 

 

Stiles was having a warm shower since he had got soaked more in the snow than everyone else. He ran his hands through his hair as he washed the shampoo out, humming to a song that had been stuck in his head all day. He span around to grab something off of the shelf next to the shower head and nearly slipped and fell over.

 

“Peter!” Stiles shrieked going to pull a shower curtain around him , but there wasn’t one because this was a posh bath/shower and it had glass instead. He covered himself with his hands. 

 

“I'm not looking, I have a vigorous beauty routine since the snow ruins the skin. I have to take extra care of my skin since the fire.” Peter chuckled as he moisturised his skin. He may not have been staring directly at Stiles but he was using the mirror to look at the boy, who was squirming from embarrassment. He wanted to wrap a towel around him but he couldn’t as it was next to Peter. “Thank you for earlier” Peter said as he left. Stiles' shoulders relaxed and he went to carry on showering making a mental note to always lock the door as it closed but Peter stuck his head back in a moment. “Nice ass...and other body parts.” He snickered when he closed the door and revelling in the high pitch squeak that left the boy's very irresistible lips. 


	6. Skating aka the revelation...maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very much appreciated help from @thelasttactician, look her up she is sooooooo much better than me. Please tell us what you think.  
> This chapter sort of spun out of control but it was fun to write and scream at.

“Stupid , Lydia. What made her think we could drive in the snow after a storm?” Stiles grumbled as he tried to shovel the snow out of the way , Peter just watching him as he leant on the car that had gotten stuck and ran out of gas, Thanks Lyds for telling us it need filling up. “I'm thinking she wanted this to happen...I mean she hates both of us. You more than me.” He hissed when he snagged his hand on a sharp branch. “Fuck.” The blood seemed to pour out, there wasn’t that much of it but it killed. Peter watched the blood drip to the ground in droplets before it bounced off the snow and splattered...it was very pretty, artistic even. Then he moved over the the boy who was stomping about to try and not think of the pain. He had threw his phone inside the 4 by 4 in a fit of anger as he had no signal.

 

“Give it here.” Peter held out his hand with a clothe in it, once the boy placed his hand in the over man's Peter placed pressure on it whilst he sucked some of the pain away, his veins turning black. 

 

“Why weren’t you doing this? Your the fucking werewolf, you wouldn’t get hurt plus you would do it faster.” Stiles argued. 

 

“I was waiting for you to get tired.” 

 

“You are a dick, now go be a good little werewolf and run to the nearest gas station. Don’t dawdle, one of us might freeze to death and I can't do that before I kill Lydia.” Stiles demanded.

 

“One of us does not appreciate your mood swings and might take extra longer to find a gas station.” Peter grumbled as he walked away, leaving the boy sat in the car. Sulking. 

 

By the time ,Peter had got back the car was dug out of the snow. And Stiles was sat shivering inside the car. Peter handed the boy a cup of a steaming liquid making sure he took it with the hand that wasn’t cut.

 

“Poison?” 

 

“Dead person grinded up ,now drink it.” Peter snarked before he climbed into the drivers seat. Stiles just stared at him. “I'll put the gas in once I’ve drank this and warmed you up.” 

 

“ 'm sorry what?I haven’t asked you to do that.” Stiles attempted to say without his teeth chattering. Peter rolled his eyes. 

 

“ If you can say a sentence without shivering then I don’t have to touch your fine ass.” Peter smiled, the boy just squeaked in return before Peter pulled the boy onto his lap. Stiles sipped on his hot chocolate fairly uncomfortable with the situation but very warm, the blushing probably helped with that. All he had to do to get through this already traumatic experience was not get aroused and think of anything sexual. Yet he couldn’t help but lean into the man's chest, it was soooo warm! 

 

The older wolf took a bandage out of his pockets, grasping Stiles' cut hand gently, covering it with ease and precision. At some point after that Peter arms wrapped around Stiles' waist. 

 

Could they talk or would that make it more awkward?  


How was he so warm? Was Scott this warm?Stiles was literally falling asleep in the man's arms which was honestly better than thinking about how they were alone in a wooden area, in a car and could have sex. Honestly Stiles why could you not think about falling asleep instead of that?

 

Peter obviously smelt his arousal because he slid the boy off of his lap and crawled out to fill up the tank. Neither of them spoke until they caught back up with the pack in town. Stiles first greeting to all of them was 'I hate you all' which was understandable he kept getting stuck with Peter. 

 

….........

 

It was all Lydia's stupid idea in the first place, it wasn’t Stiles' fault that things fucked up. It wasn’t anyone’s but Lydia's. She suggested to go sledding considering you was Queen of the itinerary the next two weeks. Was strangling her on the itinerary or could Peter just fit that in somewhere? It wouldn’t take long, he promised. Spoilt little brat. What made her worse was that she blamed Stiles for it, what was with her sudden hatred for him ? Was it cause he had moved on?That she was no longer the light of his life?

 

The incident was that Lydia and Stiles went on the sled together, after he apologized to her, not that he needed to, and the stupid girl wore slightly heeled shoes and when they went over a random rock and it went out of control she twisted her ankle and ruined her make up with her tears. 

 

Oh, honey your face was ruined by your personality. 

 

She then went on a ten minute argument with Stiles that seemed to spiral out of control. Mostly on her side. Stiles was being pretty civil and kept apologizing , she was the one that hit low and brought up his mother.

 

“No wonder women leave your life.” 

 

No one said anything , hopefully all shocked by what she said. Stiles bit his lip to suppress the tears that wanted to come rushing out of his eyes before he clenched his fists and ran away. Peter made a mental note of which direction as he turned the Lydia, smiling at her with intent in his eyes. She immediately froze up and pulled Jackson closer. 

 

“Your hybrid boyfriend is not going to fend me off nor will your alpha boyfriend , you little whore.” He said so sweetly. He bent down to her level, everyone of high alert ready to stop him ,Jackson and Aiden already growling with his claws out. “You. Are not. Better. Than. Anyone else.” She gulped as his fingernails grew to claws. “You have not lost any of your family , but your boyfriend has so maybe you could have some empathy ,you bitch. And if you hurt Stiles, once more, whether you do it by accident or it's your fault he gets something in his eye. I will kill you in your sleep. None of your little friends will know, they will wake up to your cold dead body in your bed all this pretty ginger hair stained with blood. Understand?” She nodded shaking. “Good. Now before any of you pounce on me that will be the last and only time I will be a “psycho asshole” on this trip. We all know she needed to be put in her place.” Peter chuckled before he walked off after Stiles.

 

Apparently, the boy's way of calming down was ice skating... Peter wouldn't have guessed that. He had changed at some point and now wore a pair of loose fitting sweatpants with a black t-shirt, his jumper having been left on the snow bank as he began to skate. Peter's mouth when dry when, for a split second, Stiles' sweats slipped too low and his pale, defined hip bones came into sight; the unbidden mental image of Peter tracing those dips with his tongue... or leaving behind dark bruises in the shape of his hands.. He shook his head and tried to focus on Stiles' movements. They were practised and sure, like he was floating across the ice. It might have even been majestic if it were not for the distressed look marring his face. Stiles bent his knee as he brought his right foot back, his arms carefully stretched out one to the front and one behind, curled into tight fists even as goose bumps pebbled his arms. He glided on one foot for a moment before he brought his right foot back and jammed it hard into the ice, his toe-pick chipping off a large chunk as he whipped his body around. An axel, if Peter was not mistaken. The movement was out of control, however, and it had too much power with not enough lift. He came down hard, his legs slipping out from underneath his body as his hips slammed into the cold and hard surface. Peter couldn't help the grimace that slipped out, the collision had looked painful. Before the wolf could so much as twitch, however, the teen wrenched himself up off the ground and began moving again, pumping around the ice before turning backwards. He tried again. His right leg came up, and this time he had the height but he couldn't land, his knee connecting with the ice with a solid smack! Stiles made a choked noise of pain in the back of his throat before trying again. And again.  
  
Peter watched as the boy masochistically put himself through his paces. He watched even as Stiles brought his blade too close to his skin and left behind a beading line of blood over the boot of his skate. He watched as Stiles' right hipbone turned a ghastly shade of blue, and the boy's hands became coated with ice water, even his black shirt clung to his side from the slow-melting ice. It must have been his sixth try (though Peter didn't know how many time Stiles had actually done this), when he blew out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. He was gliding backwards again, his black skate gently brushing against the fabric of his pants. Stiles stretched back, his body one long sinuous line as he dug the pick in hard. He was up, spinning through the air.  
  
For a split second, Peter thought he had it, his body doing the perfect one and a half rotations required. Stiles arced through the air, his right leg ready to catch him. Peter wasn't quite sure what happened, when, in between one moment and the next, Stiles went down hard. His tail bone connected with the ice painfully, one of the worst places to be hit, Peter knew, as it sent shockwaves through one's body; and his back followed after, blowing the air straight out of the boy's lungs. 

 

It was then that Peter moved, carefully distributing his weight as he made his way over to the boy. Stiles lay stretched out flat on the ice, his chest making worrying noises as he attempted to suck air back in his lungs, his eyes crossed as he focused on breathing. Crouching down near his head, Peter eyed the boy's injuries closely.  
  
“Stiles.” The teen looked up, sucking in large gulps of air once he could breathe again.  
  
“What do you want?” He snapped, rolling onto his stomach to push himself up. “I'm not in the fucking mood.”  
  
“As much as I enjoy your pain,” he didn't. At all. “I was actually about to make a suggestion. Roll onto your back, if you please.” Stiles shot him a filthy look from where he was posed on his hands and knees (Peter fought not to look too closely, lest he give his attraction away to the infuriatingly observant boy). But, slowly, he did as he was bid, twisting back to sit down on the ice. Shifting forward, Peter took the boy's knee gently and lifted it up, listening as the boy hissed in pain.  
  
“Bruised?” He asked lightly as he rolled up the sweatpants.  
  
“Yes,” Stiles ground out. Peter made hummed non-committally, and took a closer look at the cut on his leg. It was deeper then he had thought, blood sluggishly seeping into his sock. It was about two-inches in length and about an inch above his ice-skate. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Peter tugged out a small roll of bandages. “  
  
Why do you have that?” Stiles asked suspiciously.  
  
“In case I needed to strangle someone and still look innocent with my pockets turned out,” Peter deadpanned, cocking a brow as he looked Stiles in the eye. “I hate to tell you, dear boy, but you have the oddest habit of getting injured. I was merely being a good boy scout.”  
  
“If you were a boy scout, I'm a talking frog,” Stiles muttered angrily, but he didn't move away as the wolf began to wrap his leg tightly.  
  
“Does that mean you wish for a kiss to turn into a real boy?” Peter smirked. “I'd be happy to oblige.”  
  
“Shut up,you kiss frogs to become princes, ” Stiles blushed heavily. Peter hummed again and quickly cut through the end of the bandage with his claw, tying it off securely. With that done, he tucked the bandages away as he placed his other hand on Stiles' leg, his veins turning black as he pulled some of the pain. Stiles seemed fascinated, his burnt umber eyes pinned to his hand.  
  
“You're going to be absolutely covered in bandages by the end of the day,” Peter told him. “You'll look like a mummy if you're not careful.” Standing, the werewolf brushed off his legs and held out a hand to the boy. Giving him a mistrustful look, Stiles placed his hand in the wolf's and allowed himself to be pulled up. His skates slid forward slightly, just enough that the boy ran into Peter's body. The wolf could smell the embarrassment wafting off of the boy; before he could pull back, Peter wrapped an arm around the small of his back, pressing his hand flat against it to siphon off some of the pain. He tried not to think about how tightly the boy was pressed against him, nor how easy it would be to slip his down just a few more inches... “Although the better option might be to walk away,” Peter spoke instead, “I realize that you're not going to unless forced, and by forcing you I'm only opening up more aggression. So I'm going to suggest that, instead, you try something else before trying that little trick again. See if something else helps get you into the mood.” With his piece said, Peter loosened his grip, allowing the boy to squirm away, his skates scratching against the ice. 

 

After a moment, the human nodded and turned back to the ice, his gaze trained on the expanse of white. He skated aimlessly for a moment before picking up speed, his arms folding behind his back and his spine straightening. Bringing his arms up, Stiles shifted backwards, his skate clicking together faintly as he turned his head to watch behind himself. Peter found himself transfixed by the look in the boy's eyes, the intense amount of focus in Stiles' eyes was enough to send a shiver (which Peter quickly suppressed) down his spine.  
  
The teen's knees bent and his arms stayed outstretched before he shifted his weight to his right foot, his left coming up off the ice just noticeably. There was a brief moment of nothing, just the sound of his blade digging deep into the ice, before he popped up suddenly. His body twisted lithely, spinning loosely, his arms just barely outstretched as if he were hugging a lover as his other leg curled around his knee. His knee bent forward with the force of his landing, his head dipping forward before he straightened up, arching his back in such a way that Peter's mouth dried instantaneously. The move was perfect, flawless, enough so that Peter couldn't help but wonder just how far he could push the young man's body. Just how deep that spine could arch... how wide those legs could spread... Peter let his hand dropped subtly as he tugged on his belt loops, trying to adjust himself subtly as his mind scrambled for a way to distract himself.  
  
“Stiles,” he called the boy, watching as those fox-like eyes darted over to him, “How long have you been skating?” The boy shrugged in thought, glided across the ice smoothly with only the barest flex of his legs, his shoulders and hips leading the movement carelessly.  
  
“My mom taught me,” Stiles said finally, “when I was really young. Dad wanted me to learn how to play hockey, but I always preferred figure skating... I like the jumps,” he said, grinning faintly in remembrance. “Mom showed me the moves, the last move we worked on was the one I was trying earlier, an Axel...” the smile slipped from his mouth and deepened into a frown, “I was nine then. After that,” he shrugged helplessly, his eyes dropping to the ice, “after that, she just didn't have the energy to skate anymore.” Shaking his head, Stiles looked up and gave Peter a mirthless smile before refocusing on the ice, his legs pumping once more.  
  
He was fast, Peter noted, when he actually listened to his body he moved like a predator. Peter smirked at the thought. Stiles crossed his feet over the other as he turned sharply before turning backwards, snow flying as he did so. His body repositioned, much as it did in his prior jump, except this time his left foot came up further, pointing downward next to the centre of his right foot. His leg came back smoothly, as he shifted his weight. Stiles held position for a heartbeat before kicking his foot down hard, the toe-pick shifting into the ice hard as he brought his body back and around. He twisted flawlessly, a single rotation same as his prior jump, before coming down and landing, finishing the jump perfectly. A grin stretched across his face, making his eyes dance in delight. Stiles laughed aloud as he moved faster. He jumped and twisted to turn backward, his blades hitting the ice with a solid thud. Stiles laughed again and crossed his feet over one another as he moved. 

 

Peter noted, with a small amount of curiosity, that Stiles was going in the opposite direction this time. Clockwise as opposed to counter. The boy focused his weight on his right foot this time, his left coming up with the toe pointed downwards at the centre of his right. His gaze sharpened to a point as he focused on the ice, Peter could not tell what the boy was seeing. But whatever it was, it had Stiles' full attention. His left foot came forward, the heel perpendicular with the centre of his right. His hands also came together in front of his body as he twisted, pushing off of his left foot easily and curving outwards. He jumped off of his left foot to land on his right. Kicking his left leg out hard, he then began to spin on his right foot with his other leg stretched out fully. He brought his hands together behind his back as he spun around. Peter found himself tracing the line of the boy's body, the balance he was showing was actually rather surprising.  
  
Though, he mused, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. Stiles was exceptional when it came to something he was focusing on, be it researching, or studying, or -in this case- ice skating. It was during the tail-end of this thought that Stiles surprised Peter further. The boy's back leg came up, straight into the air, as his hand came down to brush the ice. It looked like a yoga move to be totally honest, except for the tiny detail of he was still spinning. Stiles brought his body back up, his leg coming down behind himself as he stood straight before dropping again. Standing still, it would probably look like he was trying to touch his toes, but now it looked like he was bobbing as he span. Peter caught sight of just how tight his body was being kept and nearly groaned aloud, the boy's chest was touching against his knee, just how was that fair?  
  
“God damn, Stiles,” the words were guttural, pulled from his body without his consent. The boy straightened at that, his arms coming in tight as his free leg curled around his knee. His body spun so fast it seemed blurred even to Peter's advanced sight. Finally, Stiles loosened enough to just spin lazily for a few more seconds before his leg jerked forward and pulled him out of the spin. Turning around in a circle, Stiles gathered up speed enough and skated full-fledged towards Peter. The wolf watched warily, totally prepared to jump out of the way when the boy twisted to perform a side-stop, snow spewing forward and coating Peter from the knee-down, a few flecks even hitting his upper thigh. “Cheeky,” Peter said dryly, looking down. Stiles let out a bright peal of laughter, almost doubling up.  
  
“That's a word for it,” he grinned, breathless and utterly exhilarated.  
  
“Ha,” Peter deadpanned as he looked back at the boy, the bright red flush across his cheeks should not be so appealing, the wolf decided. “Are you going to attempt your prior jump again?” Stiles nodded, bouncing on his toe-picks once before he set off across the ice.  
  
He was moving counter-clockwise again, his lissome body carefully relaxed. His right foot came back, one arm stretched forward for balance as the other was thrown behind as if to guide his body in the right direction. The water was cooling on his body to the point that Peter could see goosebumps pebbling along the boy's skin. The boy's eyes closed and Peter felt his chest tighten at the sight. Stiles seemed oblivious, however, as he suddenly pressed his toe-pick hard into the ice. The toe-pick had enough force behind it that it ripped a large chunk out of the ice as he threw himself back and up. Peter felt as though he were watching in slow motion; the bliss on the boy's face as he spun in a perfect one-and-a-half rotations should have been illegal. Stiles' knee bent perfectly as he came down, finishing the move with flourish. Stiles whooped with laughter before throwing himself across the ice and onto Peter. The older werewolf chuckled as he returned the boy's hug. Slyly, Peter slipped gripped onto the bottom of the boy's shirt so that when he moved to step back, Peter could fluidly tug the shirt off.  
  
“Hey!” Stiles yelped as the cold snapped into his skin. “What are you doing?!” Peter's eyes latched onto the boy's perked nipples, ignoring Stiles' glare as he passed the jumper he had picked up off the ground from where Stiles had carelessly thrown it. The boy grumbled in irritation as he gripped the thing, tugging it over his head. Melted snow hit his skin and he shivered violently, suddenly becoming aware of just how cold he actually is. His head had just barely popped through the top when a heavy and warm leather jacket settled over his shoulders. The strong scent of nutmeg, cigarette smoke, tea, and -what smelt like- the pages of an old book. Peter watched as the boy's eyes fluttered close, as he inhaled the scent of his leather jacket. A fierce surge of possessiveness made him pause before he quickly shrugged it off and reached for the hem of his white henley. A quick yank tugged the shirt up and over his head. A squeak made him look up, Stiles' face was red and his tongue darted out to wet his mouth as his wide eyes dragged themselves up and over Peter's torso. The wolf couldn't help as his mouth twisted into a lascivious grin as the boy's face reddened further once he noticed Peter's attention.  


“W-what are you doing?” He asked, his voice strangled as he tried to hide his face in Peter's jacket. 

 

“Take the jumper off and put my shirt on underneath it, also put my jeans on, boxers and sweats off.” 

 

“Not happening.” Stiles answered stubbornly, his eyes doing a quick once over Peter's tight body.

 

“Stiles, do you really believe that I won't do it my self? Because I will enjoy undressing you, may even touch more than what is needed.” Peter smirked and moved closer to the boy, who skated away from him to the edge of the frozen lake. He climbed out of the heavy skates and quickly caught the dry jeans that were thrown at him.  
  
Peter especially enjoyed the view of the boy's ass in soaked through boxers as he bent over to get into the jeans. 

 

“Boxers off.” 

 

“Fuck you , pervert , it isn’t happening.” 

 

“Suits yourself , its not my problem is you get frostbite their. You could always borrow one of Lydia's dicks.” Stiles grumbled things to himself as he jumped out of his boxers and quickly into the jeans. 

 

How much body warmth did this man have? 

 

He was stood on a frozen lake in just a pair of tightly fitting (LIKE WOAH!) boxers and he wasn’t even affected by it. Peter gathered up Stiles' soaked clothes before he bent down in front of Stiles , his back facing him. 

 

“Climb on, also hold on because I only have two arms. Unfortunatly.” 

 

The reaction they got when Peter walked in , Stiles on his back, in just underwear and Stiles wearing all of his clothes was plausible. Shock mostly and then many questions. Derek wouldn’t stop growling at Peter, same as Scott. 

 

“This pack has some of the most stupid werewolves I have ever encountered. One, after having sex with Stiles would I really walk in like this, knowing you will all rip me to shreds if you knew?” Peter explained with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He shoved past the pack to place Stiles on his own bed in the room. “Two, how stupid do you think we are that we would risk frostbite just to have sex, no supplies with us?” He stole his jacket back throwing it onto his bed , before he pulled the jumper off ,folding it as Stiles took off the shirt of Peter's that he was wearing. Scott gasped at the bruises , inspecting whilst Peter went to get a medical kit. 

 

“Did you do this?” Scott demanded an answer, arms crossed over his chest. 

 

“No.” Peter answered bluntly , kneeling in front of Stiles and rubbing cream into his bruises and cuts, sucking out the pain as he did so. “Thirdly, young werewolves, if you even know how to distinguish the smell ,which I doubt because only one person here is one.” Stiles deflated and looked away from everyone else. “He is still a virgin. Now please leave so I can bandage up the rest of him without even more embarrassment for him.” 

 

“I'll do it.” Scott huffed, angry with the oldest wolf. 

 

“Scott, you can't even wrap a tortilla let alone a humans limb, please it is fine.” Stiles laughed as Scott stuck his tongue out, closing the door behind him as he left. Peter raised his eyebrows asking the boy to remove his jeans. “Uh ,no. Not wearing boxers ,remember you stared at my ass?” 

 

“I stare at your ass a lot, your eyes ,however , wonder more than mine.” Peter reminded as he turned allowing the boy to put on a pair of boxers before he sat back on his bed. Peter's hands were surprisingly gentle as he re wrapped his leg with a dry bandage and then rubbed cream into the many bruises. “Up.” Stiles stood up slowly, leaning on his bed for support. Peter's finger rubbed small circles into his hips before he then pushed the boy onto his stomach on the matress. He went to protest but the older wolf's heel of his palm dug in between his shoulder blades and all that erupted from the room was a moan.

 

“Are they doing what we think they are?” Danny asked, making eye contact with Lydia. 

 

“No.” Derek growled. Grumpy sour-wolf.

 

Stiles gave a quiet groan, allowing himself to relax and go limp on the soft warmth of his mattress. Peter had his thumbs either side of his spine, and he pressed down just slightly as he brought his hands down in a smooth line. Focusing on massaging his muscles, working out the considerable knots. Tracing even lower he began massaging Stiles' very lower back, heels of his palms pressing against his backside in an overly pleasant fashion. Stiles gave a quiet moan, slightly surprised. Peter actually began to massage his backside, and Stiles fought the urge to spit at him how ridiculous that was. But he did fall on his tail bone. And at least he was wearing underwear. Peter started on his upper thighs, and Stiles went limp entirely, blissful at the sensations. Peter sighed a content sigh before he tucked the boy into his bed and left, not before getting dressed.

 

“What happened?” Scott begged. 

 

“He got too into ice skating because of someone's insensitive comment” He growled the last part at Lydia. 

 

“We will make it up to him.” Lydia apologized, he was shocked to hear the words come from her beautiful lips but it made him no less happier. 

 

“You better.” Peter said before he left the cabin, not telling anyone where he was going. 

 

Later Stiles was awoken by the smell of cake cooking in the kitchen , when he opened his eyes he was greeted by Scott's, who was kneeling by his bedside. 

 

“Dude as much as I love you,which is a hell of a lot, that's some creepy shit right there.” Stiles yawned. 

 

“Stiles we are all very sorry, it took Peter for us to notice how bad our actions were...I’d never thought I’d say that.” Scott chuckled as he offered his best friend brownies stuffed with Oreo crushed into ice cream , with a puppy dog face. “I'm going to play grand theft auto with you, until you want to stop. Lydia is your slave. Food wise. Don't worry we won't let her cook it, she just has to bring it to you. Erica offered for you to join their threesome if you wanted. Derek threw these books at me to give you, Isaac won't stop baking you cookies, there is like 300 in that kitchen and Jackson said you can use the hot tub because it will help your bruises and muscles. So are we in the good? I'm also offering to accept whatever your relationship with Peter is.”

 

“Dude! There is no relationship.” Stiles whispered in a high frequency. 

 

“That's the only thing you take out of that? And you still think I’ll believe you? Dude, Erica, you know hot blonde with nice breasts and an awesome ass offered for you to join her ,Boyd ,who I'd turn gay for, and Cora , who is freaking gorgeous and that's all I’m saying because Derek and Peter, for a threesome and all you talk about it Peter , sure whatever you say! We'll ignore the fact you let him give you a massage in just his underwear, there is nothing weird about a man twice you age giving you a massage whilst both of you are in your underwear! The dude gave you his clothes!Do you know how weird it would have been if we weren’t in a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main trick Stiles is trying to do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFGLGFv8Mu0  
> Next one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oh4EIzmvmYk  
> The last one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNmTZlo0tc8 
> 
> All thanks to @thelasttactician, i know nothing about skating, i cling to people and the sides of the arena thats it.


	7. Pack training gone wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly written by the wonderful @TheLastTactician as i am having trouble writing due to depression getting in the way, so thank her for the update.

Fuck, what was he meant to do? He could be sexually attracted to the boy , that was okay, because the boy was good looking and his intelligence was his best feature next to the wit. But he couldn’t feel this way for him. It was wrong. Funny really, that he could be okay with wanting to bend the boy over and fuck him over a counter, or hard enough that he broke a bed frame , but it was wrong of him to feel this particular feeling that the closer he had ever felt to it was for his sister and that was more admiration. 

He had a plan, this boy would interrupt that and that was the problem. 

Did he really care that Stiles would screw up the plan? Did he even care for the plan any more?

 

Yet meanwhile Stiles and the pack were training. Or so that was the excuse. Stiles found it to be more an humiliation exercise rather than an exercise to improve senses. Thank the gods he didn’t have to participate. Wooh for being an idiot on the ice! Maybe this was Derek's way of apologizing for being a dick, making everyone else look like an idiot?

Apparently Stiles may have nearly cracked a rib, so he got to sit out and watch the rest of the pack attempt to do what Derek says with blindfolds on. To begin with they had to find things that were hidden in the snow , starting with things with a strong scent to a really low scent. Everyone was reluctant but Jackson was the worse. Even threw up a fuss about it.

“This is stupid , I don’t get why we are doing this. I mean, I totally don’t need to do this , I know where everyone -” 

 

Stiles couldn't help it, the sound Jackson made when Isaac tackled him into the snow was absolutely hilarious. The boy collapsed inwards, howling in laughter as he braced his palms against his knees. Scott, upon seeing his best friend begin to laugh, cracked up as well, leaning against Stiles in an effort to stay out of the snow. Jackson, upon hearing their laughter, struggled to get out of the snowbank. Still blind-folded, the werewolf attempted to lunge towards Scott and Stiles, only to fall short and flop face-first into a snowbank. Boyd snorted and Erica broke, collapsing in a fit of giggles. Allison was laughing loudly, Cora began to snigger, Danny cackled, Ethan was roaring with laughter, and Aidan was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. Lydia had buried her face in her mitts, but her face was red with laughter from where skin showed through. Even Derek was grinning, though the Alpha tried to hide it. 

Then, a sliver of... something slid down Stiles' spine. His laugh tapering off into a sharp inhale. Standing up straight, Stiles felt panic begin to build in his throat. Dread began to mount in his chest, and Stiles could feel his heartbeat begin to speed up. It felt like a panic attack, but Stiles was at a loss as to what could have started it. There was a tug around his navel, and Stiles jerked slightly as though to move forward. His focus narrowed down to this feeling, unable to place it. He searched the others, no one seemed to have noticed his predicament. Stiles felt annoyance bubble up in his throat; someone ought to notice! Someone normally did! Although... Looking around again, Stiles felt all of his indignation rush out of him at the reminder that the person who normally noticed was Peter. And Peter wasn't... The tug strengthened to the point that Stiles stumbled slightly off of his spot. Scott's arm slipped from his shoulders but the werewolf didn't seem to see. He was too focused on balling up snow and chucking it at Jackson, roaring when the other snarled and tried to get at him again. 

Quite suddenly, it clicked into place. But unlike before, where Stiles was confused and somewhat scared, all he could feel was full-blown terror. Peter. Peter normally noticed when something happened to Stiles, but Peter wasn't here and Stiles could feel something horrible was happening. Something horrible to Peter. 

 

Scott turned, intending to get Stiles to help him in tormenting Jackson, only to find his best friend sprinting off down the hillside towards the forest. The snow fell from his grip and Scott started forward.   
“Stiles?!” He called, confused. If the human heard him, he didn't seem to care. His speed didn't slow nor did he falter. Scott was surprised for a moment, he had not seen Stiles move that gracefully -nor that fast- since his skating days. “Stiles!” Scott yelled, stepping forward. 

“Where the hell is he going?” Aidan frowned.

“I don't know...” Scott said, shrugging helplessly. “But it's Stiles, he wouldn't just take off!” 

“He's certainly fidgety enough to just 'take off',” Erica cackled. Scott swung around to glare at her. “And how would you know? You were so quick to snap at Stiles for not really knowing Lydia despite his crush, when you did the exact same thing! You built him up into something he's not, then got pissed when he didn't add up! At least Stiles didn't snap at Lydia when she was being a bitch to him.” “Scott...” Allison murmured, placing a hand on his arm as Jackson tugged off the blindfold. “What?” Scott frowned. “It's true! She doesn't know him! Stiles is always there for us, and he always comes back for us too!” 

 

“What crawled up your ass and died, McCall?” Erica sneered at him. 

“You're insulting his boyfriend,” Jackson scoffed. “Duh.” 

“Jackson...” Derek warned. 

“What?” Jackson defended. “After Stilinski's mini meltdown, I think I have the right to call out bullshit when I see it! Especially after Peter went after Lydia!” 

“He did that because she was targeting Stiles unfairly,” Derek rumbled, his voice dark. “May I remind all of you that Stiles is the only one who has yet to run out on this pack? Has yet to lie about where he allies himself?” Ashen silence befell the group. Scott looked uncomfortable and Allison looked pained; Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all looked highly uneasy and couldn't look at Derek; Ethan and Aidan were silent and stoic; Cora was quiet; and Lydia and Jackson didn't meet anyone's eyes. Derek's mouth twisted. “That's what I thought.” 

“Then why is he running off?” Cora asked, looking up at her brother with a frown on her face. “Where is he–“ 

A howl cut through the rest of her sentence, piercing the air loudly. To an untrained ear, it would merely sound like a wolf, but to the pack it made their hair stand on end and the werewolves' claws unsheathed. 

“Peter,” Derek said, his eyes glowing red. “Come on!” 

In the forest, Stiles stumbled as the howl ripped through the air. The call of a wounded wolf to the rest of his pack. The boy felt something tighten in his chest at the noise as he regained his footing, moving faster then before. Panic was bubbling up his throat and Stiles was finding it difficult to breathe, and not just because he was running. Stiles slipped on a root, knocking into a tree hard. Pausing for a moment, Stiles gasped for breath, his eyes flitting every which way as he searched for his wolf. A sudden snap made him spin about, his heart leaping into his throat. There stood Peter, though 'stood' was perhaps too strong of a word. 

He was in his wolf form, a hulking thing that whispered at the ability to be bipedal, though he still used all fours. He easily came up to Stiles' shoulder as it was, and if he reared back on his hind legs he would tower over the boy. His right arm (foreleg?) was drenched in tacky blood, seeming to originate somewhere from his shoulder blade. Despite that now so wasn't the time, Stiles couldn't help but admire him. His coat was a beautiful mix of brown, grey, and white. He was... smaller and less intimidating then his previous Alpha form, fluffier too. But he had no less of a presence, making Stiles hesitate.

“Peter...?” He whispered, stepping forward carefully. Almost as soon as he did so, the wolf snarled and lunged, slamming Stiles back into the snow hard. The teen fought hard not to whimper, a giant paw pressing him against the ground, snow trickling down his neck. Stiles stared up at the wolf, his lips peeled back in a snarl as he growled down at him. 

“Peter, it's me,” Stiles kept his voice quiet, barely more then a whisper as he brought one hand up carefully to press it against the wolf's uninjured side. “It's just me, just Stiles.” Those steel blue eyes flashed in recognition, and the paw disappeared from his chest. Peter didn't stop hovering over him, though his snarl receded into nothing. For a moment, they just stayed there. Peter asserting himself over Stiles and Stiles keeping his hand pressed to the fur behind Peter's foreleg. After a moment, the werewolf slumped forward, his head pressing into Stiles' neck. The boy laughed quietly, a hitch that bespoke of a sob in his throat. His hands came up to card their way through the ruff at the base of Peter's neck. “Don't fucking scare me like that, Creeper,” Stiles chastised him shakily. “Fuck, I thought you were dying or something, man.” Peter huffed against his chest, laughing at him. “Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball.” The teen griped, tightening his hands into fists in the werewolf's fur.

 

For a long moment they lay there, Stiles trying to remember how to breathe and Peter... well, he didn't really know what Peter was doing. Scenting him, maybe. Laying here, with Peter, made him feel... safe. Tethered, almost. Like Peter was keeping him grounded. A sudden noise, however, made Peter tense up again, his head snapping up and his lips peeling back in a soundless snarl.

“Peter?” Stiles questioned in a whisper, as the wolf moved away from him. Pushing himself up, Stiles knelt next to the hulking form, threading his fingers into the werewolf's fur. Peter angled his body slightly, and it wasn't until he was positioned that Stiles realized what he was doing. Placing himself between Stiles and this threat. Protecting him. The thought made him calmer then Stiles would've thought. 

“Here, puppy,” a snickering voice said from the forest. “Where'd you go? We were just having a bit of fun.” Stiles inhaled quietly, tightening his grip in Peter's fur reflexively. Peter looked back at him, his eyes flashing and he moved silently to crowd into Stiles' space before turning back to face the threat. Stiles bent his neck, pressing his forehead into Peter's side as he listened, trying to calm his pounding heart as fear and adrenaline threatened to take over. 

“Hunters?” He murmured into the werewolf's fur, Peter rumbled an agreement in reply. “Do you know how many?” Peter hesitated here, before shaking his massive head, pressing further into Stiles. Stiles swallowed thickly as he thought. “We can't stay here, Creeper,” Stiles whispered. “You're hurt, and I– I'm not much use in a fight. We should go back to the others.” Peter looked back at him, his eyes flashing with defiance and indignation. Stiles couldn't help but scowl and grip at the wolf's bloodied foreleg, being careful not to grab at his injured shoulder. “Do you see this?” He hissed angrily. “They can do much worse then this. We cannot stay here, Peter!” The wolf growled low in response. Another snickering laugh sounded from their right with a different voice calling out, “puuuupppppyyy, come here little puppy! Be a good werewolf and come out so we can put you down, nice and simple like.” Stiles swallowed hard and turned to Peter with pleading eyes. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, don't be a martyr for your own pride. Please, let's go. I– I don't want them to hurt you.” Peter looked at him for a long moment, every passing second feeling more like the hangman's noose tightening over Stiles' throat. But eventually, the werewolf nodded and jerked his head. Standing silently, Stiles kept a hand buried in Peter's fur as the wolf led him away from the hunters. For a moment, Stiles thought everything was fine. Until Peter suddenly lunged, knocking into him and pushing him out of the way.

He cried out as an arrow suddenly burrowed it's way into Peter's back. The werewolf gnashed his teeth before spinning about-face and roaring at the hunter's defiantly.

“Hey, looky here boys!” One hunter crowed, hefting his crossbow onto his shoulder. “This puppy's got himself a little boyfriend!” Stiles felt his face colour, even as he reached out for the werewolf. Peter tensed once his hand touched his flank, but he otherwise didn't protest. Stiles climbed to his feet, hunching inwards on himself as he sought to protect his body. The werewolf backed up, keeping the boy behind himself as best as he could, his eyes focused on the hunters.

 

“Ahhh, puppy don't be like that,” a different hunter grinned nastily. “Come on, we just want to play!” “Yeah, 'specially with that boyfriend of yours,” the other smirked. “Ain't that right, Johnny?” 

“Definitely,” 'Johnny' smiled, his eyes skating up and down Stiles' body. Stiles felt hot and cold all at once, his fingers twitching in Peter's fur. The werewolf rumbled warningly, his fur bunching up and standing on end in anger. 

“Oh, come on, puppy,” the first laughed nasally, “you have to admit he'd probably be safer with us.” 

“Oh, we'd keep him safe alright,” Johnny said. “Well, as safe as he'll ever be in our beds.” 

“Oh, I didn't know you two were together,” Stiles snapped, feeling shaky and sick. “How long have you two been fucking?” 

“You want to fucking say that to my face, you little shit?” The other hunter hissed at him. 

“You might want to watch that mouth, brat,” Johnny added. “We might decided to put it to another use.” 

“Bet he'd look pretty with your cock down his–“ Peter roared loudly, furiously. The hunters scrambled back in sudden fear. He lunged forward, shots firing confusingly as Peter tore into them. Stiles watched, completely terrified that a shot was going to get lucky and clip Peter in the heart, or the lungs, or fuck anywhere that could kill him. A sudden shot made Peter howl in pain and Stiles made a high-pitched choking noise, as he scrambled forward. A strong arm caught him about the chest and tossed him back against the tree. Stiles scratched at the arm as though he were the one with claws, trying to get to Peter. 

“Damn it, Stiles, stop!”

“Derek! You need to get Peter to stop!” 

“There are more hunters!” Another teeth-rattling roar echoed through the forest as a large black wolf bound into the fray. Stiles instinctively knew it was Derek and felt a sob of relief force it's way out of his throat. Scott's face swam into his vision and, almost belatedly, Stiles realized that it was Scott's arm pinning him down. 

“Don't worry, buddy, we've got this alright?” Scott said earnestly, searching his face. Stiles nodded and Scott pushed away from him, leaping into the fray. Stiles watched anxiously, as the rest of his pack poured into the fight. His eyes scanned the mess, searching for Peter. He found the werewolf, off to the side, ripping a hunter's throat out. Stiles let out a wordless cry and Peter's eyes snapped to his. In under a second, the werewolf leapt forward, standing in front of Stiles protectively, he grabbed at the boy's jacket between his teeth and began to pull him away from the fight.

Stiles followed willingly, allowing Peter to herd him as fast as possible towards the cabin. The sounds of the skirmish quieting the further away they got. Peter was unsteady on his feet, Stiles could see that much, a good portion of his fur was coated in tacky red blood and it splashed down onto the snowy forested floor as they moved. Eventually, judging they were far enough away, and with the top of the cabin just barely in sight, Stiles slowed down. 

“Peter,” he gasped, “Peter, you need to stop.” The werewolf growled at him, but did as he bid, circling around the boy and watching the forest. Still defending. Still protecting. Stiles lurched forward, feeling unsteady on his feet as he reached out for the wolf. “Peter,” his voice was choked, “come on, we– we need to get that arrow out of you and you need to change back. I– I need to see the damage, okay?” Peter rumbled at him, his head shaking. He jerked his head towards the cabin and Stiles nodded slowly. “Alright... at –at the cabin, okay? Back in our room? You'll be safe there, right?” Peter's eyes sharpened and he snarled, though he didn't seem the be angry at Stiles. Swallowing with a dry click, Stiles nodded. “Where we'll be safe, right? I –I can protect myself inside the room, right? So I can help you.” Peter watched him for a long moment before nodding, his head butting into the centre of Stiles' back to propel him forward. Moving with the momentum easily, Stiles continued on, one shaking hand on Peter's neck the entire way there.

 

Inside the cabin, Stiles dully noted the sound of blood tapping onto the floor as they traversed the halls into their room. Once there, Peter sat on the floor and waited with keen eyes that were slowly glazing from pain as Stiles locked the door. He didn't move until Stiles also barricaded it with some furniture from inside the room as well. 

“Lie on the bed, alright?” Stiles said, looking him in the eye. “You'll need it. And if you can shift back, okay? I'll look after you. I promise.” Peter nodded slowly before hopping onto the teen's bed. Stiles couldn't bring himself to care as he hurried into the bathroom, shedding his layers as he went. Searching the cabinets, he came up with the first aid kit and quickly wet a cloth before he scrambled back to the werewolf's side; pausing just long enough to grab his own werewolf-upgraded kit from his bags (never hurt to be prepared after all). When he re-entered the room, Stiles suddenly felt the wind blown out of his lungs. Peter had obliged his request and was now laying stomach-down on his bed. Completely naked. Shifting uncomfortably, and his face now a dark burgundy red, Stiles unsteadily made his way over to Peter's side. Hazy cobalt blue eyes peered up at him. 

“Stiles...” Peter's voice was slightly slurred from pain. Looking at his back, Stiles felt a pained noise push it's way out of his throat. 

“Fuck, Peter...” he whispered, dropping to his knees next to the bed and running his hand up Peter's forearm. 

“Jesus, dude, you look like you went to war with Freddy and lost.” Peter laughed hoarsely. 

“I'm still alive, and as he kills everyone, I think it's safe to say I won.” Stiles grinned shakily, his thumb stroking the man's arm lightly.

“Fuck...” 

“Keep using that word and I might,” Peter mumbled into his arm, his eyes still focused on Stiles even as the boy's roamed his damaged form. 

“How is it you've gotten the shit kicked out of you and you're still such a fucking creep?” Stiles snorted, bending down to grab the cloth he had soaked in water. 

“It's a skill,” the werewolf replied as Stiles gently began to wipe away the blood, moving closer and closer to his open wounds with each pass. 

“Is there wolfsbane in these?” Stiles asked. 

“Trace amounts,” Peter answered quietly. “Enough to make healing difficult. For which I should be thankful.” 

“Thankful?” Stiles asked, his voice strangled and indignant even as his hands remained steady and gentle. “Why?” 

“Because otherwise you'd have to cut me open to dig the shrapnel out,” Peter replied. “As it is, if you don't hurry you're going to have to anyways.” 

“I won't be able to see beyond the blood, asshole,” Stiles snapped, eyes flashing. “I'm trying to help you.” The two fell silent as the cloth in Stiles' hand slowly grew from a soft grey to a pink to a stained red. Stiles swallowed thickly and left quietly to ring the blood out and try to clean the cloth as best he could before returning to swipe away the rest of the blood. Once done, Stiles dropped the cloth to the floor and leant up onto the bed, eyeing the arrow shaft mistrustfully. “I'm going to have to pull this out, aren't I?” He asked, his voice defeated. 

“Yes.” Stiles made a pained noise in the back of his throat and sat on the bed, one hand placed gently in the centre of Peter's back as the other hesitantly gripped the arrow shaft. Peter stilled unnaturally under his palm, as he waited in tense silence. Stiles inhaled deeply and pulled out with a sharp exhale. Peter snarled, his claws ripping into the blankets beneath his body. Throwing the arrow to the side, Stiles' hand stroked against Peter's spine lightly. “I'm sorry,” he was murmuring under his breath, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'd take the pain if I could,” he was saying almost on repeat. Peter reached back and gripped his wrist, tugging Stiles' hand forward to press a kiss to the boy's palm before threading their fingers together. 

“It's alright,” he murmured drowsily. “Though I would appreciate it if you could get the shrapnel out of my back now.”

“I'll get to that,” Stiles told him before reaching over to his bag and pulling out a pair of sweatpants. “Here, put these on.” Peter let go of his hand almost (dare Stiles say?) unwillingly as he pushed himself up, hissing as his back muscles contracted around the pieces of metal in his skin. Grabbing the grey sweats, Peter halfheartedly shimmied them over his hips before dropping back down onto the bed, his face half on a pillow. Stiles hesitated for a moment as he tugged out a scalpel. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, “please don't gut me for this.” Before Peter could ask, the boy clambered onto his lower back, straddling him lightly. Stiles couldn't help but beg to whatever divines above that he didn't suddenly get hard, before he placed his hand on Peter's back again. “Where are the pieces?” Stiles asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Mostly in the middle of my right shoulder,” Peter muttered in reply. “You'll be able to feel them through the skin.” Stiles swallowed nervously, but gently skirt his fingers across the man's shoulder. The firm, warm muscle yielded under Stiles' touch as he felt the unnatural bumps under the skin. As steadily as he could, Stiles pressed the scalpel into the skin, listening as Peter hissed quietly into the bed. Grabbing the tweezers, Stiles began to pluck the shrapnel out, his hands fast becoming slick with blood. Besides the initial noise, however, Peter remained silent underneath him. 

“Thank you, by the way,” Stiles muttered, “for protecting me.” For a moment, he didn't think Peter heard him. But then, a long breath gusted out of Peter, moving his chest enough that Stiles had to brace himself in order not to fall forwards.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asked. “The others were far behind you, you couldn't have been following them.” 

“I, uh,” Stiles swallowed uncomfortably, fighting the urge to shift on top of Peter. “I don't know, I kinda just... knew. Like I knew you were hurt or something. I just...” he coloured, “I knew I needed to find you. So I found you.” 

“Just like that,” Peter murmured. 

“Yeah. Why?” Stiles asked suddenly, digging the last of the shrapnel out. “Is it... is it not normally like that? I just thought... I mean, you talk to me most out of everyone else, so I thought it was just, like, a pack thing. It is, isn't it?”

“It's certainly a thing,” Peter replied, cracking one eye open to watch as Stiles slid off his back. “The shrapnel's gone,” the wolf said, changing the subject. 

“That was kind of the idea of me sitting on you –on your back,” Stiles hastened to correct himself, his face reddening.

“Indeed.” 

Stiles shifted the man so he could lean on his shoulder, trying to get him off of the blood covered bed and to the man's own bed. He was not being helpful at all. But they got there in the end, after much slipping on the wood flooring. Stiles lay next to the man for a moment , too tired to move after the emotional rollercoaster. 

“Huh? I didn’t faint at the sight of blood , so that's a score for me.” Stiles chuckled as he unconsciously cuddled up next to Peter on his bed. Peter seemed to be curling up around him like the wolf that he was, his head stuffed between Stiles' neck and shoulder and he meshed his and Stiles body together,snuggling on the bed. “Thank god you are okay.” Stile mumbled to himself , it barely a whisper of breath. “Please don’t wander off next time.” Stiles begged into the man's hair. 

“I'm a grown man Stiles I can 'wander' if I want to.” Peter grumbled stubbornly into the boy's neck. 

“Sure you can , cause your a big bad wolf.” Stiles giggled before he fell asleep to the ambience of Peter's breathing.


	8. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' jaw dropped, his heart pounding double-time in his chest. He had asked for the truth, but he never really expected Peter to actually give him that.

Being awoke to what caused you to feel like you were having a heart attack is not the best thing to happen after an emotional rollercoaster that Stiles had just had. The banging was the thing that worrying Stiles the most, if the banging wasn’t there it would be the fact that he was curled up in a bed with Peter Hale who was commando and also had his hand resting on Stiles' butt. Peter moved swiftly covering the boy's body with his own as he crouched over him ready to pounce snarling at the door, where the noise was coming from.  
“It's just us, guys.” Scott called from the other side of the barricaded door. Peter still didn’t stop crouching over the boy.  
“Peter it's fine, come on lets see if everything is okay” Stiles said as he caressed his hand over Peter's cheek. The older man leant into his hand before he climbed off of the boy and off the bed, shoving the barricade out of the way with no struggle at all.  
Derek was on the opposite side of the door arms crossed over his chest ,a worried look written on his face. As soon as he noticed Peter was fine, he exhaled and his shoulders dropped.  
“Are you both okay?” Derek asked as his eyes darted to the blood covered bed.  
“Peachy.” Peter yawned , leaning against Stiles who nodded in agreement.  
“The hunters have been dealt with so there is no need to worry. Isaac needs some medical attention but I should be able to sort that out.” Derek explained before he turned to walk away. “Thank you, Stiles...for looking after Peter.  
When Stiles looked up to meet Peter's face he noticed the man looked pained and shocked.  
“I forgot to thank you, so, thank you.”  
“Why did you protect me?”  
“Cause the rest of the pack would skin me otherwise, Lydia is waiting for the right moment to wear my pelt as a beautiful coat.”  
“Seriously? That’s it? That’s what you are giving me?”  
“What do you want to hear Stiles?”  
“Really, you are going to be a dick now after I saved your furry ass, oh my god you are insufferable. The truth is all I ever want!”  
“I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t care about anything as long as you didn’t get hurt.”

Stiles' jaw dropped, his heart pounding double-time in his chest. He had asked for the truth, but he never really expected Peter to actually give him that. Peter's look hardened dangerously, his mouth thinning to a firm line. The man stiffened, his chest muscles rippling as he brought himself up to full height.

“Are you quite finished staring?” He asked, his voice positively frigid. “I do have others things to do–“

Stiles didn't let him finish, he merely lunged forward, his arms flying around Peter's neck as he tugged the werewolf into a desperate kiss. The werewolf let him do as he pleased, one arm sliding around Stiles' lower back as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The teen groaned, and let Peter lick his way into his mouth. This was the kiss Stiles had hoped his first had been, not the awkward peck he had gotten when he was nine, nor the frantic and unpractised one he had gotten from Heather. Peter kissed with finesse, twirling his tongue just so to make Stiles' knees feel weak.

It was then that Stiles felt Peter's other hand join in, skimming up to curve over his hip and push his t-shirt out of the way lightly. Standing in the tan cargoes and black t-shirt he wore yesterday, Stiles shivered at the contrast of his cool skin to Peter's heated palm. Stiles groaned again and nipped at Peter's bottom lip playfully, pushing his body further into that hand. A rumbling growl forced it's way out of Peter's chest and Stiles had the delicious sensation of feeling the vibrations against his body.

Peter yanked his head back, his eyes flashing from ice-blue back to cobalt as he stared down at the teen plastered to his front. “Stiles,” his voice was low, a warning, “if you keep at this I'm not sure I'm going to be able to pull back.”

“Who said I wanted you to pull back?” Stiles murmured, pressing on the nape of his neck to try and get Peter to kiss him. The werewolf didn't budge. “Come on, Creeper,” Stiles couldn't quite keep the whine out of his voice, “don't stop now.”

The teen felt a sudden prickle along his side, and he knew that Peter's claws had decided to make an appearance. Still, Peter didn't move, though Stiles could feel exactly how unaffected he was judging on the hard length pressing against Stiles' abdomen.

“Stiles...” Peter rumbled again, his eyes steadily sinking into the wolf's. “If we do this, it won't be a simple getting-it-out-of-our-systems fuck,” –Stiles tried to pretend that his heart didn't jump at hearing Peter curse– “this will be permanent.” Peter's eyes glowed iridescently. “You will be mine for as long as you exist. And I do not share.”

Stiles' breath hitched, the tantalizing suggestion of something more hooking him and drawing him in. Tilting his head, Stiles gently eased his mouth over Peter's, slowing their kiss from something hard and fast to gentle and achingly sweet. Pulling away after a long moment, Stiles pressed his forehead to Peter's.

“You piss me off,” he started, meeting the wolf's eyes determinedly. “You're sassy and rude and infuriating. You always argue with me, and tend to treat me with kid gloves just to piss me off. I hate it when you snipe about my friends in front of me, and I hate it when you get creepy just to freak me out.”

Peter opened his mouth to retort and Stiles tugged on his hair warningly. Narrowing his eyes, Peter glared down at Stiles but obligingly kept quiet.

“If you thought,” the boy continued, “that that little speech was going to do anything more then turn me on,” Stiles punctuated his comment with a roll of his hips, letting Peter feel exactly what he was doing to him, “then you've no idea who you're talking to,” he panted, tingles of electricity spiking up and down his spine.

Peter ducked his head to press his face against the junction of Stiles' throat and shoulder. Stiles could feel him press his fangs –still closed– against his skin; the effort going into restraining himself being kind of endearing.

“Because despite how much you piss me off,” Stiles' back arched as he rolled his hips against Peter again, listening as Peter hissed in pleasure, “I love how protective you are. I love how you look out for me. I love how you can challenge me, I love how you can see me,” Stiles swallowed hard at the admission but barrelled on, “I love how you know I'm more than just the token human, the side-kick. I love how you understand when I need to do something for me. I love your eyes. And I love your wolf's colours. Hell, I even love it when you start snarking with me,” Stiles laughed breathlessly as Peter flicked his hips in such away that made his laugh choke off into a moan. “I'm loyal to a fault, Peter, and I don't do casual fucks. You'll be mine after this and I,” he whined as the friction made his hips flick forward mindlessly, making Peter growl. “I'll be yours.”

With that, Peter snapped, his trigger having been hit. The werewolf slid his hands down to the back of Stiles' thighs and gripped one, making the boy sling his leg over his hip. With a little encouragement, Stiles leapt up lightly, his other leg slinging around Peter and clenching tight. The werewolf didn't even falter, only sliding one arm underneath Stiles' upper thighs in order to keep him up as the other gripped at Stiles' neck and pulled him into a kiss, his tongue fucking into the teens mouth in such a way that Stiles keened.

The teen squirmed, his cock an iron bar pressing against the fly of his cargoes. Peter growled low, his forearm tensing underneath Stiles as he quickly pushed him back, the door rattling in protest when Stiles' back collided with it. The boy groaned at that before tugging Peter back into a kiss, sucking on his tongue suggestively.

“Damn it Stiles,” Peter snarled when he pulled back, his eyes glowing.

“What?” Stiles grinned at him, running his hands over strong shoulders and down a firm chest. “I'm not doing anything.”

“Liar,” Peter looked amused, though there was a lingering heat still in his eyes.

Peter's hand skimmed up, his body a solid weight keeping Stiles pressed against the door. Gripping the hem of his shirt, Peter pulled it up and off, Stiles lifting his arms to let the fabric be shucked. Pressing forward, Peter ducked his head and nipped at Stiles' collarbone, leaving an impressive set of marks dotting along the ridge of bone. Stiles moaned, his head falling back with a solid thud as he bared his throat to the wolf.

Peter growled, pleased, at the submission as he went about sucking dark marks into the boy's pale skin. After a particularly sharp bite, Stiles keened and bucked up, once before pushing himself off the door. Peter took a step backwards to regain his balance before he twisted sharply and took the next few steps to the bed. He dropped Stiles and the boy bounced once, a small gasp escaping him as he fell. Before he had a moment to recover, Peter was there, insinuating himself between the boy's lewdly spread legs and pressing them groin to groin.

“Fuck!” Stiles hissed, throwing his head back at the hot friction burning between them.

“We'll get to that,” Peter rumbled in a chuckle, nipping at his skin before soothing it with kittenish licks.

“Promise?” Stiles gasped, trying to be cheeky but falling short and sounding more needy.

Peter smirked up at him, his eyes dark with lust and his hair a mess. Ducking his head, his tongue trailed down from Stiles' neck to his pectorals, stopping for a moment to flick over his nipples. Stiles' breath hitched as his back arched, pressing himself firmly against Peter. His hand flew up and he bit down on his knuckle hard, trying to stop the noises from falling. A hand suddenly pressed down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Stiles choked, attempting to buck up to get more deliciously painful friction.

“Spit it out,” Peter's voice was throaty and deep. “I want to hear you.”

“N-normally people want me to –nnnnh!– shut up,” Stiles panted, arching hard as Peter began to rub against his erection.

Peter chuckled darkly, his breath hitting Stiles' navel wetly. “Do I seem to be like most normal people?” He asked as he began to undo the front of Stiles' pants.

“I-is that a t-trick ques--” Stiles cut himself off with a sharp cry as Peter's hand enfolded his length tightly. “Oh, god!”

“I don't think he's currently in the room,” Peter mused lightly, as he began to stroke Stiles infuriatingly slow. “I could always leave to go check--”

Stiles drew him up for a harsh kiss, his hips bucking as liquid fire traced it's way through his body. “I hate you--” he broke off into a whine as Peter's thumb swiped over the head.

“Now Stiles,” Peter murmured into his skin, “what have I told you about lying?”

If he could currently pull the brain cells to do so, Stiles would toss back a sarcastic remark. As it was, however, all he could was squirm underneath the werewolf's grip, cursing and crying out in turns. Peter's hand tightened over his length and Stiles choked, slamming his head back against the bed, the tendons in his neck straining.

“Fuck, Peter, come on–!”

Peter smirked. “As you wish, little one.”

Ducking down, the werewolf swallowed him down and Stiles just barely managed to choke back on a scream. The wet suction felt fucking divine and Stiles felt like his brain was currently being sucked out of his dick, barely even noticing as his remaining clothes were pulled down and off. Looking down, Stiles met neon blue eyes and his hips jerked wildly. Peter smirked around his length and twisted his tongue just so, leaving Stiles a trembling mess.

Reaching down, Stiles carded his hand through Peter's hair, as the werewolf pressed Stiles' hips back against the bed, giving him absolutely no leverage to buck up. This, it turned out, was more for Peter then Stiles, as the teen then felt a set of suspiciously wet fingers trail down, passed his balls and perineum to his pucker. The barest touch had Stiles lurching as though he was touched with a live wire.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” The boy thrashed as best he could under the wolf's grip.

Peter pulled off of him and Stiles barely resisted sobbing from the sudden lack of tighthotwet. “Tell me Stiles,” Peter's voice was rough and it sent a zing of electricity down Stiles' spine to pool in his groin, “how often do you use that little toy of yours on yourself? The one you told me you only needed twenty minutes and double a's for?”

Stiles could barely scrape enough braincells together to reply. “Often enough,” he panted, gasping sharply as one clever digit pushing into him.

“Oh?” Peter hummed, pressing a nipping kiss to his thigh. “Do you like it, then? The feeling of being full?” Another finger joined the first, pressing in hard and firm, right up to the knuckle. Stiles arched, trying to get enough leverage to squirm back on Peter's hand. “Come on, Stiles,” Peter clucked, smirking like the asshole he was. “Don't leave us in suspense.”

Stiles glared at him, feeling deliciously frazzled at the feel of two fingers working him open. “Y-yeah, I liked it,” he grit out. “I'm just wondering whether or not you'll be able to match up.”

Peter's eyes darkened impossibly at the challenge, his pupils totally blown. “Oh?” He rasped.

Stiles, despite the fact that he was gasping every time Peter pressed up into him, still managed to smirk. Twisting his leg easily, he pressed his foot against the tent in Peter's pants. The werewolf snarled, a hint of fang as he pressed his mouth against his hip. Stiles smirked, though it quickly disappeared when a third finger wormed it's way up inside of him. Determined not to be outmatched, Stiles continued rubbing against the hard member, liking the way Peter twitched erratically every time he managed to pass over the head.

Suddenly, Peter hit something inside him that had him crying out, his abs bunching up as his mouth dropped in a silent scream. His hearing buzzed out for a second as his brain fizzled out into nothing.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” Stiles sobbed out. “Fuck, Peter, please!”

Peter was panting hotly against Stiles' skin. “Not yet,” he was saying, his voice breathless, “not yet.”

Stiles keened high in his throat, thrashing hard as Peter began to angle his fingers and hit his prostate on every pass. There was a coil in his abdomen, tightening to the point of pleasure-pain. Stiles was panting, little gasps and breathless pleas falling from his mouth unchecked. Peter hunched forward, bending his neck to swirl his tongue around the crown of Stiles' cock and suck harshly.

Stiles' mouth opened in a wordless cry as his back arched hard, cumming hard into Peter's mouth. The werewolf rumbled, his eyes flashing his pleasure as he sucked Stiles dry, cleaning the remaining cum away with kitten licks.

“Why'd– why'd you–“ Stiles' chest was heaving as he watched the man rise over him, until he was at eye-level.

“You'll be a lot more comfortable this way,” Peter told him, his voice a deep rasp that had Stiles shivering appreciatively.

Before he could reply, Peter slid an arm under Stiles and rolled them smoothly. Leaving Stiles to push against a firm chest to sit up, straddling the werewolf comfortably. As he sat up, however, the swell of his ass brushed against Peter's member, making the werewolf hiss in surprise, his cock twitching in his sweatpants. Stiles hummed, a devilish grin spreading across his face. Peter's eyes narrowed and he grit his teeth (that were quickly becoming fangs) harshly as the boy rocked back on his erection.

Stiles leant back, curling his fingers into Peter's sweats and pushing them back, his cock bobbing hot and heavy as Peter kicked his pants the rest of the way off. Rising forward, Stiles braced one hand on Peter's firm abdomen and the other gripped at the werewolf's cock. Peter hissed underneath him, his fingers digging bruises into Stiles' hips but otherwise letting the boy do as he wanted.

Lining him up, Stiles bit his lower lip before easing himself down onto Peter. The stretch was different, because despite Stiles' prior jab, the werewolf was easily bigger then his toy. It burnt and Stiles couldn't help the high moan that left his throat as he slid down inch by agonizing inch. Peter's eyes were vibrant, and his fangs were bared though he made no noise. His claws were slowly growing, and it seemed like the wolf was holding onto a tenuous control.

The thought made Stiles feel powerful, despite the fact that he felt Peter pierce so deep into him he felt like he couldn't breathe right. He had reduced Peter Hale, a wolf whom prided himself on his control, to barely holding onto it with the tips of his fingers. The thought made blood pound through Stiles' veins, his cock beginning to stiffen once again.

Shifting (and gasping at the feel), Stiles slowly lifted himself up before dropping down hard. Stiles keened but Peter growled, tossing his head back and baring his throat. The teen couldn't rightfully help himself, sliding his hands up Peter's abs (delighting in the way they twitched under his touch), he ducked forward, his tongue running up to swirl a nipple and nip playfully before continuing on it's trek to latch onto Peter's throat. The werewolf growled and his hips bucked at the sensation, almost displacing the boy on top of him.

Stiles braced himself, pressing his palms into the bedspread on either side of Peter's head, before ducking back in to bite at the werewolf's neck. His marks faded fast, but every time he slipped a tooth in deep Peter's hips would buck harshly again, displacing their rhythm. Getting brave, Stiles swirled his hips as he came up.

“Stiles,” his name sounded guttural, pulled from Peter almost unwillingly.

“Yes, Creeper?” Stiles panted, sitting up with a lewd smirk as he swirled again, Peter's cock hitting his prostate just enough to make him groan aloud.

Peter's eyes glinted, as they always did when Stiles challenged him. He grinned at the teen astride him, baring his teeth before moving in a sharp twist that knocked the air out of Stiles. There was a brief moment where Peter pulled out, making Stiles keen desperately, before he slammed back in again, turning the keen into a choked-off whine.

“P –Peter!” Stiles cried out as the werewolf began to thrust hard, and deep, and fast. Pounding into his prostate with every thrust, impossibly deep inside of him. “P –Peter, please!”

“Stiles...” the werewolf responded, his voice sounding wrecked. “Fuck, Stiles!”

If Stiles could, he'd reply with a snarky 'well yes, that is what you're doing'. But as it was, all he could do was pant wetly into the bedspread and cry out every time the werewolf hit that perfect spot inside of him. The coil was tightening again, his stomach clenching and his cock throbbing painfully. Sliding his hand down, Stiles went to grab at his cock, only to have Peter smack his hand out of the way and grip it himself.

A direct hit to his prostate and a tight grip over his cock later, Stiles was screaming into the bed as his vision, hand-to-god, blacked out. He would have fell forward, if not for a muscled arm suddenly wrapping around his hips.

“P'ter... c'mon...” Stiles slurred, “wan' it, wan' you. So fucking much... C'mon, cum in me...”

Peter howled at that, hunching over Stiles' back and latching onto the nape of his neck in a bruising bite as his hips snapped forward once more before spilling into the boy unbidden. Stiles groaned at the feeling, shifting just barely underneath the man. Blunt teeth tightened and Stiles stilled, even when he felt the skin break he did not move.

“P'ter...?” He cleared his throat thickly. “Peter, what...?”

A sharp thrust of his hips had Stiles' question stilling in his throat. Unlike what he thought, the werewolf was softening or pulling out, if anything he was getting bigger and harder. Stiles choked, at the thought that he was being knotted. He didn't know that even existed outside of the animal kingdom, dubious porn and fanfiction. Peter unlocked his jaw, pressing his forehead to Stiles' shoulder.

“It's okay,” his voice was tight and rough, like the wolf had him by the throat. “Just breathe, baby, relax, I've got you.”

Stiles sobbed as the knot grew, his ass burning fiercely and making his entire body tremble. He tried to do as Peter says and breathe through the stretch, but his orgasms had made him dizzy and the pleasure still lingering in his body was making everything fuzzy. His lungs were all out of whack from the abuse his body was taking.

He focused on Peter, feeling how his warm, calloused palms skim up his sides soothingly and the werewolf pressed kisses to his shoulders. He paid special attention to the sluggishly bleeding bite on the back of his neck, licking at it gently and making it tingle pleasantly. His limbs trembled and when the knot finally popped past the rim, Stiles was certain that the only thing holding him up was Peter's arm curled over his middle.

Gently, the werewolf pulled Stiles down, rearranging them both on their sides so the teen didn't have to support his weight on trembling limbs anymore. The knot tied them together deliciously and, despite having just cummed his fucking brains out, Stiles' cock gave an interested twitch.

“Fuuuuuuuck...” the boy groaned as Peter's hips rolled deep and languid, the knot catching on his rim and bumping against his prostate. His cock filled with blood, making him feel punch-drunk.

Peter huffed out a breathless laugh and did it again, and again. “Everyone's going to know now,” Peter was panting into his skin, “if they didn't hear us before, they'll certainly know now.”

Stiles was sobbing, sparks of pleasure dancing along his spine like a concert pianist's fingers. Peter was running a hand down Stiles' front, barely dancing across Stiles' cock.

“They'll be able to smell me on your skin,” Peter said, rolling his hips in tight circles, “see it in my marks.” The bite on his neck throbbed. “But most of all, you'll be able to feel me,” a sharp thrust, “every time you move, every time you sit, every time you mouth off,” twist, buck, “you'll feel me, inside of you. Like a brand. My Stiles. My human. My mate. Mine.”

For the third time that night, Stiles tumbled over into the abyss, ropes of cum spewing into the bedspread. He tightened around Peter involuntarily, and the werewolf groaned, his hips twitching as he pumped his seed into Stiles. Peter finally stilled, locked tight and deep into Stiles' body.

“Mine.” Peter murmured, sounding as drowsy as Stiles felt.

“Yours,” Stiles responded, blissfully slipping into unawareness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LastTactician here, hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Laughatthegirlwholovedtooeasily: This is all on Hayley, she was the mastermind behind this beautiful chapter. x


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